


Back Steps

by coolbyrne



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 09:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18312881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: Instead of dying in 'Twilight', Kate goes into Witness Protection. Choosing Stillwater as her new home, she can't help but tempt Fate. (Kibbs, of course.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jenni3penny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni3penny/gifts).



> First and foremost, this started as a work by jenni3penny, who posted the first chapter and kindly offered it to anyone who wanted to finish it. Through Google docs, she followed it every step of the way and offered an unlimited amount of support. Couldn't have done it without her. Second, this is, of course, an AU. Had to do a LOT of modifying of the canon to make this fit, but I hope it works. References to 'Twilight', 'Kill Ari', and a complete re-write of 'The Spider and the Fly' to fit the story. Lastly, as always, for roman_machine who beta'd it without even knowing the fandom or pairing. ("It's like reading original fic!")
> 
> It is a complete work (about 22k words), but I will post it in large chunks in order to make it easier to read.

…..

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Jack.”

She cheerfully pretended to ignore the fact that he looked extraordinarily tired and his plaid patterned shirt was buttoned so awkwardly incorrectly that he had an extra few inches hanging lower on one side. He was paused in the kitchen doorway, slippers on his feet and rubbing his fingers against his forehead. The completely and utterly confused look on his face reminding her, unbidden and like a smack to the face, of his son.

“Gets your batteries charged.” The older Gibbs recovered his surprise with a sniff as he searched around his own kitchen and turned a glance over the freshly brewed coffee. “Ann said that. Used to.”

“Yeah?” Kate stretched into the nearest chair at the table, easing her shoulders back and relaxed into it so that he could watch her warily as he stepped toward the opposite chair. “She had a point. So eat that before it gets cold.”

He was looking at her with a strong scrutiny, one that he'd managed to pass on to the next generation and probably without even realizing it. “Why you here, Sam?”

“You really need to lock your front door.” She hushed up with a slightly guilty smile, knowing he never would, knowing his son _never_ would.

Once a Gibbs, always a Gibbs it seemed.

A lot of things about Jackson Gibbs were, ultimately, perfectly familiar (no doubt why she couldn't help spending so much time checking in on him).

A gruff noise of disbelief chuffed off him as he shifted in his chair, arching a brow at her. “Samantha?”

“I need some supplies.” She shrugged into the dubious and cagey way he'd asked it, reaching over to shove his warm plate of eggs and toast closer to him. “Couldn't sleep last night. Figured I'd roust your aged butt outta bed, old man. Store isn't gonna open itself.”

“Listen here, little minxy...”

She grinned indulgently into the playfully accusatory way he was pointing at her, “What? Tell me.”

“You...” He shook his head with a sigh and reached for the coffee she'd set to the table.

“I what?”

His relaxing smile was affectionately delicate, brittle and soft in its sincerity “You really need to meet my son. He'd like your sass.”

_He already does... did. Once. He did like my sass, I think._

__

__

_And, God, I really, really, miss your son. Even the more... assholic parts of him._

“You keep saying that,” Kate murmured, feeling a lonely sadness lump in her throat before she thinned him a mischievous smirk. “But you never bring him here for me to appropriately peruse.”

She hadn't perused his son in... years – not that he knew that. Unless, of course, she counted the aged and finger worn photos Jack tended to thrust in her direction whenever he was feeling overtly fatherly and nosy about her personal and/or sexual (or, lately, non-sexual) life. Whenever she taunted and teased with him and he looked at her like something ultimately familiar and familial. Whenever he affectionately grazed those bright sweet blues over her and played at pretending she was something of a daughter-like creature. Seeing photos of a young Leroy Jethro Gibbs, while knowing she no longer had the ability to connect with the modern version had, every time, choked her throat tight. He'd seemed to notice it too... stopped showing her photos, but there was no end to trying to match-make.

“Somehow you made yourself scarce the last time my son showed up in Stillwater.” She looked away and pretended to whistle and he laughed. “I knew it. Too scared he’s gonna sweep you off your feet, huh? Us Gibbs men have that talent, it’s true.” He grinned and the brightness of his too similar blue eyes haunted on her.

Kate recovered with a widened smile and a pert shake of her head, wagging a finger at him over the small table. “You're too good a salesman. Don't believe a word of it. Eat your eggs.”

“I could kidnap you, drive you down to DC with the Winchester.” He sipped at his coffee as she pushed up from the table, his other veined and aged hand reaching for the paper she'd been fiddling her fingers again. “Force him to marry you.”

“From what you've told me,” Kate tugged on his sleeve a couple times before waving toward his plate in another unspoken order, “marriage isn't one of his many talents. Eggs. Now, sir.”

She turned away from the mental repetition of every taunt she'd ever turned in Gibbs' direction regarding his multiple wives, especially knowing she'd have to pass the photo of the dead one (the one he'd _never_ told her about) on her way out of the house.

“You fix that back step yet or do I need to call one of the Bronson boys over here?” She did what she could to keep her voice upbeat and cheery as she passed the row of photos in the main hall, intentionally keeping her eyes from the way Jethro Gibbs repeatedly stared her down in a silent and unrealized accusation. “Stop lookin' at my butt, Jackson Gibbs.”

“Stop turnin' around in front of me then.”

…..

The sun welcomed her when she stepped out of the house and she tilted her face up to meet its warmth. A car drove by and honked a greeting which she returned with a friendly wave. Gerald McCrimmon raised his hand from his porch swing and smiled. Such was life in Stillwater. 

When the Witness Protection agents had given her a list of places to choose, she refused them all and instead, to the confusion of her handlers, had chosen Stillwater. They had to Google the place. After asking her three times if she was absolutely sure she wanted to start a new life in the middle of nowhere (she was sure ‘buttfuck’ was implied), they shrugged and made the arrangements. Two days after her ‘funeral’, she pulled into town with an old pick up truck and a resumé for the baker’s position at Carol’s Cakes ‘n’ Things. Two years later, at the old woman’s insistence and failing health, Kate took over the place in everything but name. 

Stillwater. 

It was warm and it was safe and it reminded her of Gibbs. She knew it was more than a little selfish of her, to keep something of him close to her when she had left nothing of herself behind for him, but she’d half-convinced herself he had moved on. He had never given any indication while she was alive that he required more from her than she ever gave, so why would he need anything after she was gone? She ignored the memories of soft blue eyes and teasing grins and gentle words and promising touches that always hinted at what that ‘more’ might have been.

Stillwater.

It was both a blessing and a curse, and sometimes she wondered if she should have chosen differently. But then she thought of another set of soft blue eyes- older, yet just as warm and safe- and knew she had made the right choice, even if it sometimes bruised her heart.

…..

“Yeah.”

Jackson shook his head even if Gibbs couldn’t see it. “Son, you really need to work on your phone manners.”

“Hello,” Gibbs said, in a tone that didn’t make it any different from the first brusque opening. Hearing his father’s disapproving ‘tsk’, he asked, “Is there a reason you’re calling, Dad, besides teaching me phone etiquette?”

“I’m your father. Don’t need any more reason than that. But if you want another one, I need the back step fixed. Nearly broke an ankle.”

“Get one of the Bronson boys to fix it.”

Jackson snorted. “You know those boys are as reliable as the postie clock.”

The ‘postie clock’ was the big clock on the post office building, perpetually broken since 1974.

Though the comparison made him laugh, Gibbs said, “I can't drop everything to come fix a step, Dad.”

“Might be something in it for you. You know, besides seeing your old man.”

Gibbs wasn't going to get lured into the emotional ambush. “Dad,” he warned.

As always, Jackson brushed aside the tone. “I'm just sayin’, my Sam's still single.”

He bit back the groan. If he had heard about ‘my Sam’ once, he’d heard about her a hundred times. While he would admit he was starting to lose the war of attrition and had actually gotten partially interested in the last few months, there wasn’t a chance he’d let his dad know.

“Your Sam?”

“Well, she's too young to be mine in the romantic sense of it. And too wise. You'd like her, Leroy.” 

“So you keep tellin’ me, Dad.”

The sarcasm either went unnoticed or ignored.

“Whipcrack smart. Carries a five shot in her purse. Doesn't give an inch. Even got her to clean the old Winchester last month. Put a few rounds through it, too.” 

That got his attention. “Never let me handle the Winchester,” the petulant teenager in him groused. Hearing the laughter, he pressed his lips together, mentally head slapping himself for falling into the old man’s trap. Still, he gave an inch.

“Sounds like an interesting woman.” It was the most he’d admit to. He tried to mask his confession. “Hard to believe she’s still single.”

“She was runnin' from something when she came here. Always assumed it was a man. Somebody who'd hurt her. Calmed down after a year or so, though. Found her smile.”

He softened a bit at the insight. In his line of work, he'd seen it time and time again. It was nice to know sometimes, it had a happy ending. Still, he couldn't resist.

“Coulda chosen a better place to start over.”

It was part of their routine for Jackson to carry on as if Gibbs hadn't spoken.

“I think she's happy enough. At least, she's smiling more. Got a beautiful smile. Got a beautiful everything..”

An unusual heat began to creep up his neck. “Don't.”

“Too pretty for you, anyhow. Too smart, too.”

“So you keep tellin’ me.”

Jackson was in full ramble now. “Lets herself in and makes me breakfast whenever she gets a whim. Sorta uppity sometimes but she's a damn fine woman.”

“Are you done? I said 'no'.”

“No to what?”

“Whatever it is you're tryin’ to do, Dad.” The irritation laced through his voice.

“Don't know what you're talking about, son. Besides, didn't hear a 'no'.” His sigh gave Jackson an opening to continue. “She paints, too. Got a sailboat picture hanging in the living room that's Sam's.”

“If she's such a smart woman what the hell is she doin' spending so much time with you?”

“You're just lucky I'm not 30 years younger. I'd give you a run for your money.”

He had no doubt his dad could charm the birds out of the trees back in the day. Hell, he was still clearly charming the birds.

“Don't have time for this, Dad.”

This got another snort. “I was under the impression you could multi-task, Leroy. Shouldn't an investigator be able to multi-task?”

“Hangin’ up now.”

The older man was just as tenacious as he was charming. “Wouldn't kill you to meet somebody new. Come on up. She jogs by in the morning. Miracle of a sight.”

Gibbs bit back a laugh at the bluntness. “You objectify all women? No wonder I get accused of being a chauvinist.” The latter was said more to himself than his father.

“I do not objectify Sam,” he barked, clearly offended. “She's an angel. Maybe now I don't want you anywhere near her. You'd probably ruin her anyhow.”

“Good. Glad that's sorted. We finished?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Great.”

“For now.”

Gibbs scowled at the phone before abruptly ending the connection. 

…..

 

“Jack?” He looked up from his sweeping. Kate typed some numbers on a calculator beside the keyboard. “It's gonna be more than usual. I'm ordering for me and the shop today.”

Shrugging off her small worry, he said, “That's all right, sweetheart. I know you're good for it.”

Still, she felt obligated to say, “I'll pay for mine now but I'll bring a check over later for the shop order.” Exiting out of the program, she wheeled her chair back and stood. “You need anything while I'm at it?”

“How about a dinner date?”

“You know I don't date men from Stillwater.” She patted his cheek. “Charming as they may be.”

The clang above the door got their attention.

“Ed.” Jackson tilted his head at the sheriff. “Nice day.”

“It is.” He touched his hat in Kate’s direction. “Hey, Sam. Whatcha doin'?”

She pasted on a bright smile for the man who was her one burr in Stillwater. “Just some ordering for the shop.” 

“She's my tech support.” He said it with the air of someone who barely understood the term and didn't care. “What can I do for you, Ed?”

The officer hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Just wondering about a rumour I heard.”

Being the owner of the only general store in town, rumours were like currency, though Jackson was careful with whom he traded. “Small town, Ed. Lots of rumours going around. Which one in particular has sparked your interest?”

He shrugged, pretending he had no real interest. “Heard Leroy might be coming back into town again.”

“First I’ve heard of it.”

Ed held Jackson’s gaze long enough to know it was the truth. “Huh. Well, you make sure he checks in when he does.”

Kate coughed at the idea of anyone making Gibbs do anything, let alone making his father pass along the order. Jackson’s eyes twinkled at her, obviously sharing her amusement.

Ed frowned at the silent communication. “You have any of those lemon cookies left, darlin'?”

She hid her bristle, knowing it was what he was looking for. “Unfortunately, no. I gave the last few to the Harrison kids.”

His up and down look was just as repulsive as it had been the very first time he’d seen her. “Shame.” 

The bells above the door barely had time to quiet when Jackson turned to her.

“He mean the lemon cookies you just put in the back room?”

Her lips twitched. “Possibly. What do you think Ed meant?”

“With Leroy, could mean anything. Why? Getting excited at the thought of finally meeting him?”

She shook her head at his playfulness.“Jack, if you didn't have pictures of him all over your house, I’d worry he was all in your imagination.

“You are excited.”

“I'm sure he'll be far too busy to meet me while he's here. Now take my money.”

He moved her along with his broom. “Toldja I know you're good for it.”

“I insist.”

They were halfway into their well-worn routine when the phone rang. Taking the broom from his hand, she pointed to the counter. 

“Hey, two customers today!”

He ground his teeth at her sass. “For that, you can finish up. More of a workout than that running you do.” His tone gave no secret to what he thought about the idea of running for pleasure.

“That's to clear my head, not exercise. And you need to stop being so nosy.”

He winked. “Less of being nosy and more of taking in the view.” He picked up the phone, knowingly cutting off the retort that was coming his way. “General.”

“Pig,” she mouthed.

He pressed a button and returned the phone to its cradle. “Speak of the devil.”

“Take me off speakerphone, Jack.”

He waved his hand. “Cool your jets, Leroy. There’s no one here in the middle of the day and my hearing isn’t what it used to be.”

“You’re sure no one’s there?”

Jackson didn’t look at Kate for fear of breaking up at seeing her face, and what he missed was an expression that wasn’t anything like he imagined. Instead of looking like a co-conspirator in a good natured ruse, she was unusually pale and unnaturally silent. Years of experience quickly dropped a neutral mask over her expression, transferring all of her reaction to the white knuckled grip she had on the counter’s edge.

She had seen pictures of Gibbs and listened to an endless amount of stories, but she hadn’t heard his voice in over 5 years. The photos and yarns made her feel close to him, and yet kept a kind of distance between them. Hearing him now suddenly made it incredibly real. She thought of trying to leave as discreetly as possible, but she knew there was no way to do that without drawing attention, both from the father and the son. Besides, while her heart might have been racing, her feet were firmly rooted to the floor. So she stood silently, subconsciously recording every word, every timbre, every note.

“No one’s here, Leroy. Now, you’re not inclined to call out of the blue, and my memory might be going with my hearing, but I’m pretty sure there’s no holiday to mark. So what can I do for you?”

“I need you to get out of Stillwater for a while.”

Despite the turmoil rolling through her heart, Kate had to smile. Straight to the point. Some things really do never change.

“Get out of Stillwater?” Jackson was less entertained by the bluntness. “What the blazes for?”

The growl was audible even through the speakerphone. “Can you just do what I ask, for once?”

“Well, the way I see it, you didn’t ask. You told me.”

The sigh was just as loud. “Fine. Can you get out of Stillwater for a while?”

Jackson’s immediate response made it obvious he had had the answer ready from the get-go. “Got no one to look after the store.”

“What about that kid you hired?”

“Cal?” Jackson asked. “Well you got that right, Leroy. He’s just a kid. I can’t leave him in charge for however long ‘a while’ is in your world.”

She could almost see Gibbs rubbing his forehead in frustration. 

“What about the woman you keep telling me about?”

“Sam?” He glanced over to her and winked.

The warmth that spread at the thought of Gibbs knowing about her, even if all of it wasn’t entirely true, overrode the fear of him finding out that truth. Just.

“Yeah,” Gibbs said. “She sounds… nice.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, knowing even a compliment as banal as ‘nice’ was like pulling teeth.

“Nice?” Jackson repeated, his voice raising in register. “If you came up here to see like I keep telling you, I think you’d come up with something better than ‘nice’.”

“The way this conversation’s goin’, I’ll hafta come up.”

Reminded of the purpose of the call, he asked, “Ed was just in here telling me he’d heard a rumour about you coming home. What is this about, Leroy? ”

Kate knew the silence was Gibbs churning questions about Ed around in his brain, but she also knew he’d move it down the list of priorities for now. She wasn’t wrong.

“Just some trouble down here, Dad. Worried it might find its way up there. Would rather not be worryin’ about you while I try to work things out.”

“So I should just close up shop and head where? For how long?” He knew there wasn’t going to be an answer that would make him change his mind. “I’ll be fine here. You just do your job, son.”

There was another long silence, and Kate found herself leaning forward, a flower to the sun.

“Your Sam really put some rounds through that Winchester?”

The idea of Leroy Jethro Gibbs surrendering his position so easily told Kate everything she needed to know about his relationship with his father. Everything she had heard over the years was only ever from Jackson’s point of view, and as many tales as he could tell, as many secrets as he could reveal, it was only ever one-sided. This conversation- full of exasperation and frustration but also warmth and softness- slotted the final Gibbs piece into place, and she felt like she really, finally knew him for the first time. She blinked back the tears. He was so close, and yet couldn’t be farther away.

Still oblivious to Kate’s distress, Jackson chirped, “She’d give you a run for your money, Mr. Army Sniper.”

“Marine,” both Kate and Gibbs corrected simultaneously. 

She covered her mouth, eyes wide in horror. Her cover had been carefully crafted and maintained for years; it took a 5 minute call from Gibbs to nearly destroy it. Fortunately, Gibbs was too caught up in the fact Jackson had lied.

“You said no one was there.” His voice was flat and hard.

The tone ran off Jackson’s back like a duck to water. “Rein it in. You haven’t said anything I wouldn’t have wanted her to hear anyway. I trust her.”

What it said of the father/son relationship surprised Kate. The idea that Gibbs would bury his anger at the lie and defer to his father’s judgment of a person he had never met was unexpected, though now fit the new image she had of Gibbs.

“Well,” Jackson said, looking at Kate. “You might as well say ‘hello’.”

“Hello.” They both spoke again, Gibbs not realizing the order wasn’t directed at him.

Kate laughed and was lulled by the warm honey that smoothed the roughness in his voice. “Hello.” She stopped herself from calling him ‘Gibbs’ and struggled to get out an additional syllable. “Leroy.”

“Sam,” he replied in his no nonsense way. Considering his side of the pleasantries fulfilled, he said, “Just keep your head down, Dad. Will ya?”

“If you spent more time working and less time chatting up pretty women, I wouldn't be in this mess you've put me in.”

It was a surprise to neither Jackson not Kate when the other end unceremoniously cut off, ending the call.

…..

“You okay, Sam?”

Kate looked up from her task. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re about to ice that cake with sour cream.”

Her eyes flashed to the bowl. Taking a sniff, she realized the girl was right. “Shit. Thanks, Lily. Don't ever tell your grandmother I did that!”

The girl- a spitting image of the bakery's namesake- smiled under the blanket of freckles that dotted her cheeks. ‘Woman,’ Kate corrected herself, though it was hard to look at her beyond the teenager she knew when she first arrived in Stillwater. She suspected Lily had taken to her as the big sister she never had, and being bereft of a family of her own, Kate was more than happy to take on the role. She just also happened to be a damn good baker.

Lily waved away Kate's playful concern. “Remember the time I put everything as tablespoons instead of teaspoons?”

“That's when we learned you needed glasses.”

Lily laughed at the memory. Returning to the present, she asked again, “You okay?”

Rule 7. Always be specific when you lie. 

“I heard from an old friend today. Hadn't heard from him in-” She hesitated at placing it at the same time she arrived in Stillwater. “A long, long time.”

“Was it a good thing or a bad thing?” Kate felt the warmth begin to stain her cheeks and Lily good-naturedly pointed and teased, “It was so good!”

“It was pretty good. And that's all I’m saying.” She looked down at the cake. “I clearly can't be trusted to do this, so why don't you finish up and go home? I'll bring the pies over to the diner.”

“Sounds good,” Lily agreed. “You're putting the order in tomorrow? Because we've got that cookie sale on the weekend.” 

“I put it in today. Didn't want to chance it.”

Lily nodded her agreement. “Then that's it. I'll lock up when I leave.”

“Great.” She carefully lifted the 3 pies and kissed Lily's cheek. “I'll see you in the morning.”

The late afternoon air was warm on her way to the diner and she enjoyed the short walk. The small town rolled up the carpets at 5 o'clock so she always made sure the pies got to the diner by 4:30. The bells jangled over the door as a customer held the door open. 

“Thanks, Steve,” she said, balancing the desserts. 

He leaned forward for a sniff. “I’m leavin’ too damn early,” he complained, patting his stomach.

Steve Brighton’s reputation as the town's best mechanic barely superceded his reputation as an eater. Barely.

Winking, Kate said, “Oh, I bet there's just enough room for a slice of apple pie. Just came out of the oven.”

He pretended to contemplate the thought. “Alright,” he decided. “You could sell ice to an Eskimo, Sam.”

“Gloria know you're such a flirt?” she teased.

“Gloria doesn't make pies half as good as you,” he volleyed back. 

Though the banter was harmless, it got a short of derision from the corner booth. 

“I'll remember to mention that to her the next time she comes into the store.”

Kate didn't need to look to see the voice's owner. 

“Pipe down over there or you'll get nothing.”

Steve snorted at her warning and held out his hands. “Lemme take those for ya.”

“Charlotte better check under the foil before she takes them!”

“Hush,” Kate chastised. She thanked the mechanic before strolling to the booth. Sliding into the well-worn seat, she picked a fry off his plate and asked, “Why are you so grumpy? Jealous?” 

He watched her savour the fry and harruphed. 

“Don't worry; I'll always be your girl.”

“Don’t be sassy.” When she took another fry, he added, “And quit eating all my food. Pretty sure Charlotte can whip up a salad or whatever rabbit food you eat.”

“It’s past your bedtime, isn’t it? That’s why you’re grumpy.”

He made a show of looking at his watch, then back at her, knowing full well what time it was. His unamused expression didn’t stop her from laughing. 

“Shouldn’t you be at home in your jammies watching Matlock or something?”

“What the hell’s a ‘Matlock’?”

“Mmmm, it’s like Law & Order but for really old people.” She reached for another fry and got her fingers slapped.

“And I don’t wear ‘jammies’.”

Charlotte chose that moment to arrive and shook her head at Jackson. “Looks like I picked the wrong time to come into this conversation. How’s the Salisbury steak?”

“Delicious as always. That kid of yours can cook, I’ll give him that.”

“I’ll tell him.” She looked at Kate. “Anything for you, Sam?”

“I’ll have the usual.”

“Didn’t get to eat lunch, huh?”

“No, and I’m starving.”

“Be ready in a minute, darlin’. You up for some of Sam’s apple pie, Jack?”

“If Steve hasn’t eaten the darn thing.” 

The woman just shook her head. “I’ll bring you some fresh coffee, too.”

“The usual, huh?” he asked when Charlotte walked away. “We never have dinner here.”

She feigned a reach with one hand but stole a fry with the other, much to his chagrin. “I do have a life outside of Jackson Gibbs, you know.”

“Not much of one.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Maybe if someone didn’t scare off the men who show any kind of interest…”

“Bah. If they were really interested, they wouldn’t let an old man scare them off.”

“So you admit to meddling?”

“Never said I didn’t.”

The matter-of-factness was a family trait that she recognized every time, except from a man 30 years younger. The weight of the day must’ve started to show, because Jackson pushed his plate towards her.

“You’re lookin’ a little pale, Sam. You should eat more. Exercise less.”

His kindness pulled her from her reverie. “But what would you have to look at in the morning?” 

Charlotte appeared table side and set Kate’s plate down, as well as a slice of pie in front of Jackson. “Anythin’ else I can get you two?”

“Just the coffee.”

“No coffee,” Kate corrected him. “Doctor said you needed to cut back. He’ll have water, Charlotte.”

His blue eyes narrowed. “Speaking of ‘meddling’.”

She shrugged and picked up the bacon cheeseburger with zeal. “Oh my gah. Dis is so goo,” she managed around the mouthful. 

His eyebrow raised in admiration for her appetite. Taking care of the first bite, she touched the corner of her mouth and asked, “You worried about what Leroy said this morning?” She hoped the food covered the fact that she still couldn’t quite say his name without stumbling.

“Only for him,” Jackson said. “I can take care of myself.”

The thought of Gibbs not being able to take care of himself and how he’d react to that idea made laughter bubble up in her throat and she had to duck her head. Without giving too much away about a man she wasn’t supposed to know, she said, “A Marine sniper can’t take care of himself?”

He brushed aside the logic. “If it was just him, sure. But he’s gonna worry about taking care of everyone else first, including me.”

She couldn’t disagree. That was Gibbs all over. 

“Should we go down to DC and take care of business ourselves?” she asked, a playful twinkle in her eyes. 

“Wouldn't that be something? Me with the Winchester, you with that 5 shooter. We'd show ‘em how it's done.”

The burger paused on its way to her mouth. “How do you know I've got a gun?”

The matter-of-factness wasn't the only family trait. She knew that teasing grin anywhere.

“I know all kinds of thing about you, Missy. Like the fact you’re finally seeing the wisdom in my words.” She raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to elaborate. “Talking about going down to DC. Don't think I don't know the real reason.”

“Oh my God,” she said, this time the exclamation having nothing to do with her food. “Eat your pie, old man.”

…..


	2. Chapter 2

…..

“One day delivery,” Jackson said when Kate walked into the store the next morning. “Pete Wilkinson must really be sweet on you.” 

“He _was_ ,” Kate agreed. “Until some old guy meddled.”

Jackson pursed his lips. “Hmmm. I don’t quite recall.”

“I like that you knew I was talking about you. Give me that list.” She snatched the invoice out of his hand.

They skimmed down the list, checking off each item as they went and began hauling them out to her truck. Five cardboard boxes and three flour bags later, Jackson eyed the fourth one while Kate signed the receipt.

“You need help with that?”

“No. It’s a good excuse to make up for sleeping in.”

Jackson hummed in agreement. “Wondered why I hadn’t seen your beauty run by this morning.”

“Incorrigible.” 

It might have been the heavy bag she had just hoisted over her shoulder, or maybe the years away from the service slowed her down a fraction, because when the shots rang through the front window, she knew she didn’t reach Jackson in time. He groaned when she fell on top of him, covering his body with her own and yelped in pain when she dragged him behind the counter.

“I know, Jack,” she apologized, her hands going to the blood that bloomed under his right collarbone. 

“You’re hit,” he croaked, his left hand shakily pointing to her shoulder.

She winced at the reminder, but took off her hoodie without complaint. “I’m fine. Keep this pressed as tight as you can.” 

Pushing his left hand over the garment that she had wadded against his bullet wound, she searched his face for an answer, and he gave it to her with a firm nod. Without hesitation, she reached up for the Winchester, crouched towards the door, and waited for the second pass that would inevitably come. A warning from Gibbs would only be a last resort, and a last resort for Gibbs meant it was serious. Kate had no doubts about the professionalism of the men sent to Stillwater. 

Her patience paid off. 

Tires squealed at the end of the street and she braced herself for the return. She couldn’t see Jackson from where she was positioned, so she called out in a firm but quiet voice, “Stay down, Jack.”

He may have replied, “Not that I can go anywhere,” but the second round of gunfire drowned him out. Taking a deep breath, she threw open the door and ran into the street that had become eerily empty. Faces pressed against windows from inside nearby stores, but there wasn’t a soul on the sidewalks or the street. Kate was grateful for one less thing to worry about as she raised the gun stock to her shoulder, aimed, and fired at the departing vehicle. Coolly, she ratcheted the finger lever to reload the chamber, held her breath and fired again. She got four shots off this way before the car was out of sight.

Her shoulder burned from the wound and the recoil of the rifle, but the adrenaline served as a temporary balm. The anger was only extra, coursing through her bloodstream when she heard the siren coming from the opposite direction. She yelled at Mrs. Simmons’, who had ventured a peek from her hair salon.

“Call an ambulance!” she directed, knowing the wail that was coming closer wasn’t the emergency response she needed. The older woman nodded, and Kate ran into the store.

“Jack!”

“Still here, darlin’. Just like you said.”

Putting the gun on the floor, she knelt at his side and covered his hands with hers. “So you _do_ listen.”

He had enough strength to offer a small smile. “Sometimes. Speaking of, I want to tell you something-”

“Stop,” she said, cutting him off. “You’ve got a gunshot wound to your shoulder. You’re not dying.”

He grunted as if the thought had never occurred to him. “Dying? Take a hell of a lot more than a bullet in the wing to kill this old dog. I just thought maybe you could…” He winced on the inhale. “You could take advantage of the situation to tie my son down.”

The adrenaline was starting to wane which brought everything back to the surface. The pain. The emotions. The knowledge that life as she had known it for the last 5 years was likely over and that she would have to face the outcome. Blinking back tears, she passed a gentle hand across his forehead to brush back the snow white hair.

“Such a romantic,” she bantered, though the smile didn’t quite meet her eyes.

…..

She was just about to get into the ambulance when she felt a tug on her elbow. Turning to see Ed’s hand, she yanked her arm away and growled, “Don’t touch me.”

“Just got a few questions.”

“Yeah? I got some of my own,” she spat. “Where were you?” Leaning in closer, she inhaled. “At Trescott’s Salvage, having a beer with the boys? You knew something was up. Where were you?”

His eyes narrowed at her accusation, as right as she was. “How the hell would I know what-”

“You’ve got some rat in Washington keeping you up to date with Gib- Leroy. It wasn’t just a rumour that he was coming up, was it?” When he didn’t reply, her eyes turned to steel. “Was it?”

“I’d heard there might be trouble headin’ up this way,” he admitted. “Didn’t think it’d be this!”

“No,” she shook her head, correcting him. “You didn’t think it’d come to this before he got here to fix it for you.”

The ambulance attendant nervously cleared his throat. Knowing which one he wanted to piss off the least, he turned to Kate. “Uh, Sam, we need to go.” 

“Four door silver sedan. Licence plate NNB 7831. Or do you need me to do that part of your job for you, too?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Let’s go, Gary.” 

The young man gladly closed the ambulance doors behind them, leaving a glowering sheriff in their wake.

…..

“Yeah?”

The greeting was exactly what she expected, yet she still wasn't quite ready to hear his voice again. 

He mistook her silence for a reminder in phone etiquette. A firm “Hello,” was as close as he was going to get.

Swallowing hard, she tentatively replied, “Agent Gibbs?”

It took him seconds to put the voice to a name, and from a name to a conclusion. “What happened?”

The background noise was still familiar after all this time- he was grabbing his gear and moving, even as he waited for the answer.

“He's okay. But he’s been shot. In surgery, but doctors said he'll be fine.”

“He's 81 years old,” he snapped. Jabbing the elevator button, he clenched his jaw and sighed.

“I know,” she said, accepting his unspoken apology. 

“So what happened?” he asked again.

“Silver 4-door. Drove by the store and opened fire. NNB 7831. We got behind the counter but Jackson got hit.”

“‘We’? You were there?”

“I was under the impression you wanted me to help him.” She was trying to limit her words for her cover’s sake, but she felt her own helpless frustration echoed in his, and the emotional weight of the day was beginning to wear her down. “Sorry.”

“Don't apologize.”

“Rule 6.” Catching her slip, she added, “Your dad told me that.” Before he could comment, she went on, “I’d check area hospitals. I hit at least one of the shooters.”

“Jesus,” he softly laughed. “How many?” He jabbed the elevator button again, growling at its incompetence.

She remembered the elevator well. “Three. Driver and 2 passengers.”

“On my way.” The door chimed and he stepped in, but before the door could cut off their connection, he said, “I owe ya.”

…..

She fussed over him because she didn't know what else to do- folding the sheet under his chin, tucking in the corners, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles- and it didn't take long for steely blue eyes to crack open and silently ask her what the hell she was doing. Out loud, he asked her something else.

“Who are you?”

She frowned at the question, knowing his injuries were localized around his shoulder and chest and nowhere near his head.

“Samantha Winslow,” she said, the confusion masked as a playful retort. “You know, ‘Sam’? The one who makes you breakfast and puts up with you for God knows what reason?”

Not for the first time did she see his son in his expressions, especially when he scowled.

“No, I mean, who are you really?” Before she had a chance to figure out the best lie, he said, “In the store, when they started shooting, you reached to your side, like you were used to having a gun at your hip. And you took charge like you knew what you were doing. That had law enforcement written all over it.”

“You’ve been watching too many cop shows,” she deflected.

Deflected poorly.

“Nope. I may not see my son as often as I’d like, but I’ve seen him enough to know that demeanour.” 

“Water?” she asked, pouring a glass before he could reply.

He hmphed at her avoidance but didn’t push. “Speaking of my son, I take it you called him?”

“I did.”

“Is he going to grace us with his presence?”

“He’s on his way.” An automatic defense at Jackson’s accusation threaded through her words. She knew Gibbs wasn’t demonstrative, but she knew he loved, and loved deeply. She didn’t think that had changed over the years.

Jackson raised his chin and gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. “Probably coming up to see the girl I keep telling him about.”

“Pretty sure he’s more concerned about you.” Her fingers curled around the glass that had been filled but unused. “And we need to have a talk about your matchmaking skills.”

That Gibbsian half smirk made its presence known. “Way I see it, they’re pretty darn good. Pretty thing like you, good man like my son?” The shadow that crossed her face didn’t go unnoticed. “You know, I've never asked. Figured if you ever wanted to tell me, you'd tell me in your own time. But you’re not in trouble with the law, are you, Sam?”

The gentleness in his voice made it hard to remain indignant. “No. Not in trouble with the law.”

His eyes narrowed. “Trouble with a man?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “I told Leroy it was man trouble. He’ll take care of that if you ask him. Doesn’t put up with that nonsense any more than I do. But he’s got the law and about 30 years on his side.” He patted her arm. “He’ll take care of it.”

“I appreciate the help, but it’s not needed.” She covered his hand with hers. “That was a long time ago.”

“Maybe. But you’re still skittish sometimes.”

He wasn’t wrong. Even after 5 years, a strange face in town could make her jump. 

“Who do you think those men were?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

His narrowed eyes told her he was well aware of her tactic, but he let it go. 

“I’m sure Leroy will tell us all about it when he gets here. Or none of it. Depends on his mood.”

Her smile was wide and genuine. “Sounds about right.”

If her unintended slip puzzled Jackson, he didn’t say.

…..

She had stayed longer than she should have, and she knew it. But part of her couldn’t bear to leave Jackson alone and the other part resigned herself to the fact she wouldn’t be able to outrun Gibbs forever. She was knee-deep in whatever case had brought those men to Stillwater. He’d be expecting some answers from her; she just wasn’t sure how she’d answer all the other questions he’d ask.

Suddenly, the air left the room.

…..

As a soldier, he’d seen more than his fair share of death. As a father, he had been given the gift of witnessing life. But he had never seen death come back to life until he turned into the room and saw her standing by the bed.

She had her back to the door but he could have picked her out in the dark. Sure, she was older- she had let the darkness of her hair fade into a caramel- but he had stood behind her enough times, closer than now, more intimate than now, to recognize the slope of her neck, the curve of her shoulders, the tilt of her head. He willed himself to breathe but allowed himself to sag against the wall. He didn’t know whether to close his eyes and gather his thoughts or to keep them open out of fear she'd disappear.

“Kate?”

…..

It was a question, a statement, a caress and an accusation all rolled into one. She was sure she’d never heard so much emotion put into one word, let alone her name. She hadn’t been called that in nearly half a decade, but hearing it from his lips made it seem like yesterday. Steeling herself, she turned slowly. (She never could just rip the Band-Aid off.)

He had aged, but in the way men are allowed. The new softness around his mouth hinted at the grin she remembered so well. The hair was more salt than pepper, but still fashioned in a style she recognized from the 1960s poster in Mrs. Simmons’ salon as ‘Cut #5’. But it would be, as it always was, his eyes that would tell her everything. Finding the courage to look up, she was startled to find they told her nothing. Or perhaps it was that they told her too much. Hope and hurt. Anguish and anger. The clenched jaw told her he was doing his damnedest to rein it all in, trying to fabricate a mask of indifference, but he only had so many hands to cover the emotional cracks. She had never seen him so angry. And yet so incredibly lost.

“Gibbs.” Her voice cracked on the simple syllable, and she brought a hand to her mouth. Unable to muster some of the Gibbsian control she had so long admired, she could only shake her head as she bolted past him.

…..

He reached out for her, not to stop her from leaving, but to give himself some tactile evidence that this wasn’t all some kind of dream. Her bare arm brushed by his yearning fingertips, and he knew he was wide awake. The thought scared the hell out of him.

…..

“Sam?”

The reality that Gibbs had expected when he walked into the room called out from the bed. His legendary ability to compartmentalize wasn't quite at the ready, but he swallowed the moment down.

“It's me, Jack,” he said, moving to the bedside.

“You came.”

He wondered how their relationship came to this. “Of course I came. Jesus, Dad.”

“You meet Sam?”

It was an innocent question that allowed for any number of answers he wasn’t ready to give. Fortunately, Jackson’s semi-consciousness took no notice of Gibbs’ flinch.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice incredulous even in his state. “That’s all you got to say?”

In a rare show of affection, he clasped his father’s hand in his. “She’s… amazin’.” _In ways you don’t even know, Dad._

This got an eyebrow raised so high it must've taken all his strength. “‘Amazing’? You sure you're Leroy Gibbs?” When this got a raised eyebrow in return, Jackson nodded his delight. “Where is she?”

“Said she had to take care of somethin’.” He hoped he wasn't pressed for more.

Jackson practically cackled. “Probably taking care of Ed. She sure gave him an earful at the ambulance.”

“Oh yeah?” The casual information piqued his interest.

“Oh yeah. About how he knew something was gonna happen but didn't-” He wheezed out a cough. “Didn't do anything.” The accusation was punctuated by another cough. “She was the one who got out there, with that Winchester-”

“Take it easy,” Gibbs ordered when the coughing continued. “I’m on my way to see him.”

“Good. She got hurt too, you know.”

His eyes turned hard. “What?”

“Clipped her shoulder. Tried to get in front of me. Bastards must’ve fired eight shots if they fired one.”

“Guess it’s a good thing they couldn’t shoot for shit.”

Jackson’s laughter sparked another coughing bout, and Gibbs helped him drink some water. 

“I gotta go, Dad, but I’ll be back.”

“I’m gonna be safe here?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Two of them pulled up at Narrow Creek General. One’s touch ‘n’ go. Other’s got the same thing you have.” He pointed to Jackson’s shoulder. “Gave the local badges somethin’ to do and posted them outside the hospital rooms.” He didn’t mention the driver who got away. Knew there was no point worrying his father when experience told him the driver was likely running as far from Stillwater as possible. 

Jackson hummed a private amusement. “She knows how to shoot that gun!”

“She does. Listen, I gotta go handle a few things. You need anythin’ when I come back?”

“I need you to bring that girl back.” There was no mistaking who the ‘girl’ was. “On your arm. With a smile on your face.”

_If only it were that easy, Dad._ “Anythin’ else?”

“Bah,” he scoffed, waving a weak hand. “Get goin’.”

He had his professional mask on by the time he got to the door, but when he turned to look at his father, he let some emotion seep in. Time had been hard on them both, in one way or another, and it shocked him to see how small Jackson looked in the stark white bed. Years had stretched between them, time they’d never get back. He stubbornly refused to regret, but seeing Kate had forced him to reflect. 

“Hey, Dad?” The older man looked up, blue eyes expectant. “I… I’ll see ya.”

…..

The door opened with enough force that it banged against the wall, causing Ed to look up from his paperwork. The swivel chair squeaked when he sat back, fingers laced over his middle-aged spread.

“Leroy. You made it up here quick.”

“Yeah, ‘cause Sam Winslow called. Still waitin’ to get your call.”

“Not sure you’ve noticed, but I’ve been kinda busy.”

Gibbs’ eyes roamed over Ed’s desk, and his judgment was swift. “Doin’ what, exactly? Because by the look of things, you got someone else to make the call, someone else to try to apprehend the suspects, someone else to save Jackson. Now I’m here to do the rest for ya.”

The chair rolled back violently as Ed abruptly stood. “Screw you, Leroy,” he snapped, jabbing a finger in Gibbs’ direction. “If you had kept me in the loop, I coulda helped.”

“Kept you in the loop? From what I’ve heard, you got a friend in DC tellin’ ya all about ‘the loop’.”

Instead of denying it, the sheriff double-downed. “Wasn’t hard to find someone willin’ to dish the dirt on Special Agent Gibbs.” He said the title like a mockery. “But that was always you, Leroy. Always chose vinegar when honey would do. But you never know, that might work on Sam.” He smirked. “Rumour has it, her bed’s been pretty cold lately. You could get lucky.”

He paid no attention to his heart’s reaction to the information of Kate’s personal life; instead, he filtered his emotion through his moral code and gritted his teeth at the slight against her. “Say that again.”

The steel that corded through his words made the smirk falter, and perhaps for the first time, Ed seemed to realize the man who had walked through the door wasn’t the same undisciplined youth of old. This man was cold, quiet, and unmistakably dangerous. He swallowed the golf ball that suddenly lodged itself in his throat. To Gibbs’ pleasure, the laughter came out shakier than Ed might have liked it.

“Big man now, is that it?” The question did nothing to relax the diamond hard stare. “What the hell do you want from me, Leroy? You come here just to bust my balls?”

“Not just, no,” he replied with minute satisfaction. “Forensics crew should be here on the hour. You did tie off the scene, right?” He took Ed’s sarcastic head tilt as a ‘yes’. “Then when they get here, leave them the hell alone and let ‘em do their job.”

“That it?”

“Unless you got a line on the driver who’s probably halfway to the Canadian border by now, yeah, that’s it.” His hand was on the door knob when he turned back to Ed. “Where can I find Sam Winslow?”

…..

She wasn’t home, and he didn’t know whether he was relieved or disappointed. He had sat in his car outside her house long enough for the neighbour to come outside and see what the stranger wanted. Finding it was one of Stillwater’s prodigal sons, the neighbour kindly suggested he might have better luck at his father’s. Gibbs thanked the man and used the 10 minutes it took to get to Jackson’s to practice his speech all over again. By the time he saw the old familiar house, he had given up on words, and in a decision that would stun anyone who knew him, decided to play it by emotions.

He had gotten to the step when a voice called out.

“Leroy Jethro Gibbs!”

Despite the circumstances, he smiled.

“Mrs. Hannigan,” he said, facing the octogenarian. He wasn’t surprised to see her hands full. “Let me take that.”

“Just a little something for your father,” she explained unnecessarily. Everyone knew she put together care packages for the town in times of need. “When he gets out of the hospital.” Though it was a statement, Gibbs heard the question in it.

“Might be a few days, but I’ll let him know.”

The news brought relief to her lined face. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Leroy. So wonderful!” She touched his arm. “And it’s wonderful you came.”

He nodded, feeling awkward in the reminder of his absence. “Next time it’ll be under better circumstances.”

“Good. Tell your father we’re all thinking of him.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and Leroy? I went past Sam’s house and she wasn’t there.”

Another unspoken question to answer. “I saw her at the hospital.”

“Good,” she said again. “Please let her know there’s one of those for her, when she’s ready.” She tilted her head down at the casserole dish in his hands. “She’s a special girl, Leroy. Just such a brightness since she arrived. Tell her we’re thinking of her, too.”

His throat suddenly got tight. “I will.”

He watched her walk down the small path and wave from the sidewalk. When he couldn’t use watching her departure as an excuse to avoid the house and all that was likely inside it, he inhaled deeply, turned the door handle and stepped in.

…..


	3. Chapter 3

…..

The house was empty, but there was a noise coming from the back that let him know she -or someone- was there. Walking into the kitchen, he avoided looking at the photos in the hall, memories of moments and people he’d left behind. Nothing much had changed and he didn’t know if he was comforted or angered by it. Even the smell of the house seemed to cling to a time long passed, like someone had bottled the 1970s and took it out every once in a while to spray the room. He found a pot holder, still in the second drawer to the right of the stove, and carefully set the casserole dish on the counter. An electric saw jerked his head towards the back yard.

_Suck it up, Marine._

He watched her through the small pane glass window above the sink, and the sharp pain he experienced in the hospital punched him in the gut again, taking his breath away. It was almost as if his brain had fooled itself into thinking that seeing her by his dad’s bedside was just a figment of his imagination, and that seeing her again only made it seem more absurd. But it didn’t matter how many times he blinked, how many times he forced himself to close his eyes to be sure, she was still there, in all the beauty he remembered, and new ones he regretted missing. 

The woodworking was one of them. 

It shouldn’t have surprised him, considering how close she had gotten to Jackson, that the old man would take it upon himself to teach her carpentry. Probably used it as a sly way to get her to come around the house. Gibbs couldn’t help but give it up for the guy; not like _he’d_ never used it on a woman.

But not this woman.

It was different with her, and it was always his fear that the day he brought her down to his basement and his boat would be the day he handed her his heart, and he hadn’t been ready for that; at least, that’s what he had always told himself. Seeing her on Ducky’s slab corrected that error- he had given his heart to her in ways he didn’t even realize.

Anger flashed across his brain- Ducky must’ve known. All this time, he must’ve known she was still alive. For the millionth time since it happened, he replayed every second of that day from the moment the bullet hit Kate in the chest, just above the vest. Except this time, he mentally examined the details outside of the shooting- the quickness of the emergency services to arrive at the scene, the way Ducky skillfully danced around giving any answer that had any depth, the closed casket service. He looked down at his hands, remembering the blood that had stained them for days. He wondered how much of it, if any, was real. His jaw ached from the anger. Eyes that burned from betrayal looked up… and melted at the sight of her. There would be questions to ask, answers to be demanded, and forgiveness to be given, but for now, it was just her. Standing in his dad’s backyard, hauling 2x4s and measuring cuts.

He walked to the back door and took a long breath.

…..

She knew he was watching her even without looking back at the house. The fine hairs on the back of her neck pricked upward in a way they only did when he was around. Willing herself to continue on as if she didn’t know, she couldn’t help but wonder what he saw; did he see Kate Todd of 5 years ago or the new Sam Winslow of now? She knew he would have an endless amount of questions, and the thought of facing them- of facing him- suddenly seemed so daunting. The look on his face in the hospital was burned forever in her mind, and her heart clenched at the image. The tears that threatened blurred her vision and she cut at the wrong marker.

“Shit!”

…..

It was her expletive that finally made his feet move. With her body blocking the saw, he feared the worst and threw open the door.

She whirled immediately.

“Stop!”

Frozen, with one hand on the door knob and one foot over the threshold, he looked down. She had dismantled the steps and left a 3 foot drop into nothing. Catching himself in time, he casually jumped down with a soft landing. 

“I told him to get the Bronson boys to fix it, but they’re about as reliable as-”

“The postie clock,” they said together. 

“You’ve heard that one,” she said.

His laugh was short but warm. “Yeah. A few times.” She looked everywhere but at him; he couldn’t look anywhere but at her. Finally, he jerked his chin toward the wood. “Shouldn’t be doin’ all this with your shoulder. Let me give you a hand.”

For a second, he thought she was going to say no, and he didn't know what he'd do if she refused him. Fortunately, she offered a small nod and he exhaled.

They worked silently, enjoying the warmth that the sun, the wood and the moment offered them. It was when she touched her shoulder that he stopped.

“That's enough for today,” he said. “Doctors won't release him for a coupla days and, by then, he'll have charmed the nurses enough they'll want him to stay longer.” His heart was stopped by her smile. Clearing his dry throat he said, “The rest of this can wait. There's a casserole in the kitchen.”

“Mrs. Hannigan.”

“Yeah.” He marvelled at how well she had found roots in a town he couldn't leave fast enough.

Linking his fingers, he silently offered to boost her up to the open door and when his hand lingered on her calf, he tried not to think this was only the second time he had touched her. Pushing aside the thought, he went to hoist himself up, only to see her proffered hand. An eternity stretched before he took it, strong and firm, and leveraged himself up to the door. Her strength took him by surprise and he almost laughed at how forcefully she pulled him up until he ended up full flush against her and the sound died in his throat.

They had been close like this before. Accidentally and intentionally. Their job often demanded a a shield or a professional embrace. But it didn’t account for the lingering touches or the bodies that swayed too damn close to each other. They pretended they were unaware of how they sought each other out for a quiet comfort both in and out of their jobs. He pretended there was nothing to it. Pretended it would be liveable to orbit each other this way indefinitely. Leaning into her now, as he had done so many times before, showed him just how foolish he had been. 

His kiss wasn't one of hesitation or even tenderness, but of intent- to not let the moment fade, to not pretend. Rule 12, his emotional deficiencies, hell, death itself be damned. His hands, his arms, his body enveloped her, shielded her, asked her never to leave. Her own hands clung to his shoulders, balling the cotton shirt into tight fists, and the life she breathed into him was her answer. He wasn't a stranger to attraction or even love -he _had_ been married four times- but there was something about the feel of her in his arms and the presence of her in his heart that was too sharp, too acute, an unfamiliar pain that warmed him like nothing else. He kissed her like it was the last time he’d have the chance. Her hands circled gently around his wrists, grounding him, perhaps grounding herself.

He pulled back, but not away. “I never wanted to regret not doin’ that ever again.”

She nodded, closing her eyes but never losing contact with him. “We should talk.”

Not the three words he was surprised a part of him wanted to hear, but he knew she was right. Before he could reply, she said, “But let’s eat first.”

She held his hand as she turned into the house, and it felt like she had done that forever. The touch was dangerously new and yet remarkably familiar, like his big hand was always meant to link with hers. Almost reluctantly, they let go when she nudged him to the table and she turned her attention to the dish on the counter. 

“Who were those men? Old case? New case?”

He watched her turn on the stove and reach for plates in the cupboard. The ease in which she made her way around the kitchen spoke of a familiarity with the place, and it touched him in a way he didn’t expect. She was so at ease with the domesticity, that, like the hand holding, felt as comfortable as an old sweater. She turned her head to him and he realized he hadn’t answered her question.

“Old.”

“Revenge?” He raised an eyebrow and she offered a smile. “No one’s going to come all the way up to Stillwater to kill your father just because.” She started filling the coffee machine like they were talking about the weather. Such was the nature of their profession, even if she'd been out of it for years.

Except this one wasn't entirely professional.

“He tell you about-” He looked towards the hall, despite the photos being out of view.

Her gaze followed his. “Yes.” Her simple word said all the things she knew he wasn't ready to hear, even now. His clenched jaw gave her time to put the pieces together. “You found the man… responsible.” 

“Yeah.” It was barely a whisper.

She didn't have to ask what he had done when he found him. If the men sent to kill Jackson wasn't a clue, what she knew of Gibbs and how he loved would have been enough. 

“A brother? A son?”

“Daughter,” he replied, his gaze leaving behind the memories in the hall and returning to the present. To her.

“How close are you to catching her?”

“If the Feds get the hell out of my way, very close.”

She had to smile at his eternal frustration with outside agencies. “Which probably explains the shooting. One last desperate act. I’m guessing this wasn’t her first attempt at revenge?”

“No.”

It was a familiar tale. “So you’ve been cutting off the limbs but haven’t been able to get to the head until now.”

“Somethin’ like that.” He shouldn't have been surprised that she had remembered his old adage. He was sure she remembered everything. 

The casserole was warmed to her liking and she brought it to the table. Coffee immediately followed; 2 cups of the blackest liquid he'd ever seen. When she made no obvious reference to the darkness of the coffee, he wondered how long she had taken it that way.

She savoured the food's aroma before taking a bite. “Mrs. Hannigan makes the best comfort food.”

He agreed with a hum. “Always _was_ chasin’ after Dad.”

“If she hadn't had that hip replacement, she might've caught him.”

The quip was so unexpected he nearly choked on his coffee. It had been a long time since he really laughed.

They finished this meal in a silence that was both a comfort and a stalling tactic. As was the speed in which they cleared the table. Until at last, Gibbs spoke.

“So is that what Ari Haswari was- a limb?”

The running water gave her a moment to steel herself. Turning the tap off, she nodded. “Homeland wanted to find his handler and the CIA had a good line on the Hamas chain of command. But they needed him… undistracted.” She couldn’t- wouldn’t- say his name. “His focus was becoming too personal.”

“He wanted to make me suffer.”

“Which is why he shot me.”

“But how did-”

“Homeland had an inside tip that I’d be the target. Though I questioned it later when I had to jump in front of you.” 

“Why you?”

She looked up from the soapy water that had been the buffer between her heart and his eyes. “Guess he saw something we didn’t. Or did. I don’t know. They just wanted to make sure he felt his mission was resolved so they could go back to tracking his handlers.”

“But why did you do it? He woulda tried, failed, got frustrated and moved on to whatever lies he was telling both sides.”

Her head tilted at him. “Is that what you really think? Or do you think his frustration would’ve made him pick another target like Tony or Tim? Or an easier target like Abby or your dad?”

His lips pressed together. “You know he just kept at it anyway, even when you were dead?”

She had heard the turmoil Ari had left in his wake long after she was gone. “I know.”

“You know Ari’s life ended in my basement 2 years ago.”

“I know.”

“And Homeland assassinated his handler 16 months later.”

“I know.”

“Stop saying that!”

He had rarely raised his voice to her, and it startled them both. But while she jumped at the volume, she didn’t bend, and met his anger with her own.

“What am I supposed to say? That I regret my decision? That I wish I’d done things differently? That every morning isn’t a struggle because I’m so tired of pretending?”

He flinched in the wake of her fury. He was sure this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Still, he didn’t know how to rein it in. “ _Nothing_ was the same when you left.”

She flinched at his accusation. “You think it was easy for me? I lost my family, my friends. You. All you lost was me.”

That she would think of herself being such a small measure in his life almost broke him. As close to tears as she’d ever seen him, he whispered, “That was too much.”

The softness in his voice caught in her throat. Her attention returned to the forgotten sink, the bubbles diminishing on the water's still surface. “I couldn’t even go to my mother's funeral, Gibbs.”

“I went.”

The confession abruptly brought her eyes back to his. “What?”

“I saw it in the paper.” He shrugged as if following a newspaper from Indiana was nothing. “I went. Thought it was the least I could do.”

“I-” She stammered, unsure of what to say.

“Your sister recognized me from a picture you had. Didn’t know if she was going to hug me or hit me.”

This drew out a small chuckle. “That’s definitely Rachel. So what did she do?”

Rubbing his forehead as if he couldn't quite believe it himself, he said, “She invited me to dinner. With the family.”

“Wow.”

“And every damn holiday since.” His voice was stern but his face was soft. “Christmas. Thanksgiving. Easter. The twins’ birthdays.”

“Nathan and Kyle?”

“Yep. Can’t say ‘no’ ‘cause she’ll put them on the phone. ‘Uncle J! Uncle J!’” He affected an exasperated expression that didn’t fool her at all. “Then I _really_ can’t say ‘no’.”

The thought of 2 children badgering Gibbs to dinner turned the chuckle into a laugh, though the thought of missing out on the boys’ affections turned her sombre again.

“I think she just likes to think there’s still a bit of you there. When I’m there.” The back of his hand ran along her bare arm. “It’s why you chose Stillwater, isn’t it?”

She brought a hand up to cover her eyes and could do no more than nod, the weight of the last few years, few days, few hours finally bowing her back. “It's been so long,” she said.

His arms went around her; his strength and his words held her up. “But it's not too late.”

She didn’t hesitate putting her arms around his middle and resting her head against his chest. He was warm and firm and strong and felt like home. The years melted away, leaving nothing but a moment she wanted to last forever. A buzz vibrated against her hip and she almost laughed at the timing. 

When he made no motion to retrieve the phone from his pocket, she muffled into his chest, “Aren’t you going to get that?”

A “Don’t wanna” was whispered into her hair.

Shifting slightly, she dipped 2 fingers into his pocket and pulled out the offending device. The fact he hadn’t upgraded since she left suited him right to the ground. 

“Figured out how to send texts yet?” His grumble was her answer and she smiled. Seeing the name light up in the flip phone’s small window quickly took the edge off the humour. “It’s Tony,” she said, realizing it was the first time she had said his name aloud in years.

“Musta made it,” Gibbs replied. 

“You called him up to do the forensic work,” she said.

“To help, yeah. Don’t think we’re gonna get much from the scene, but who knows?”

A thought crossed her mind and she stiffened in his arms. He knew instinctively what she was thinking. “I’ll tell him I spoke to you. To Sam.” She relaxed and he tightened his embrace with one hand while taking the phone with the other.

“Yeah.”

_“Boss, as much as I love the place, the LEOs here are as much help as Deputy Dawg.”_

“You on the scene?”

_“Setting up now.”_

“Then ignore the unis and get to work. Put Ziva on.”

_“Boss?”_

“DiNozzo!”

The old yet familiar bark made Kate muffle her laughter into his shirt. There was some shuffling in the background before the voice changed.

_“Yes, Gibbs?”_

“Ziva,” he said, relieved to have someone to rein in Tony. “You know what to do. And if DiNozzo gets out of line-”

_“Bust his steaks.”_

His mouth twitched. “Chops, Ziva. Bust his chops.”

_“Will do, Boss. When should we expect you?”_

He looked down at the woman in his arms and for the first time in a long time, found the choice between a professional and personal decision a difficult one. Kate seemed to sense this because she looked up into his conflicted blue eyes and mouthed the word ‘Go’. 

“Gotta go up to see Jackson, but I’ll be there when I can. Give me thirty.”

_“Take your time. We’ll take care of this,”_ she assured warmly. _“Tell your father we said we’re thinking of him.”_

He snapped the phone shut and put it back in his pocket. Untangling her arms from around his waist, Kate brought them to his chest and rested them there for a moment, as if her fingertips were memorizing his heartbeat. At last, she stepped back, though couldn’t quite break the contact completely. With her fingers on his belt, she took a deep breath and tried to smile. He bent his head to encourage her to look up at him, and when she did, his mouth found hers. Softer this time, with a tenderness that pulled a quiet mewl from her lungs.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked when they finally parted.

Though the question could have encompassed everything, she knew he was strictly speaking of the moment.

“I need to get up to the hospital, but I’m not sure that’s such a good idea right now.” 

He knew she was thinking of the risks of being spotted by Tony. The agent had an uncanny ability of showing up when least expected. “There’s a back step that still needs fixin’.”

She looked over her shoulder at the backyard and grinned. “There sure is.”

“You’ll have to tell me when ya learned how to do that.”

“There’s a lot I want to tell you,” she admitted. “But later. You have a job to do, Special Agent Gibbs.”

He smirked at the way she said the title. “Ya know, you can call me ‘Leroy’. You already did.”

She remembered the phone call and wrinkled her nose. “That might take some practice.”

The fact there was a chance to practice at all brought everything into sharp focus. “I can’t believe that call was yesterday.”

“I can’t believe where we are today.” She smoothed his shirt. “Go,” she said at last. “I’ll be here.”

He was reluctant to let go and she knew her words, while a normal exchange under normal circumstances, were anything but in this context. He never expected her to be there when he arrived, and part of him worried she wouldn’t be there when he came back. 

“I’ll be here,” she repeated, and now it was her turn to kiss him. Quick but full of hope. “I promise.” She watched him as his professional mask slowly fell back into place the closer he got to the door. It was a marvel to see the transformation. It was only when his hand touched the door handle and she called out, “Give Tony a head slap for me?” that a glimmer of the man hidden under the agent snuck out in a half grin.

…..

“Ow!” Tony yelped, his hand immediately coming up to rub his head. “What was _that_ for?”

Nonchalantly, Gibbs shrugged. “Made a promise. Consider it an advance on a future screw up. Whaddya got?”

Smoothing his hair down, Tony replied, “Not much. A ton of shell casings that we’re trying to match up with the slugs in the store.”

“You’ll be short one.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small evidence bag. 

Ziva took it from him and held it up to the sunlight. “Your father?”

“Yep.” 

“Take more than that to put the old dog down, right, Boss?” Gibbs’ slow turn of his gaze made Tony rethink the words. “I mean, you know-” He flashed a grin. “You were right about that headslap.”

“I will bust his chops later,” Ziva assured Gibbs. “In the meantime, we spoke with witnesses, but they didn’t see more than what we already knew. Silver car, three men that didn’t look- and I quote- ‘Like they were from around here’.” 

She glanced at Tony for clarification and he mouthed, ‘Racist.’ Without even looking, Gibbs’ hand came in contact with DiNozzo’s head once again. 

Ignoring the exchange, she continued, “The car was found abandoned on the I-75 just outside Detroit.”

“Took the Ambassador Bridge over,” he surmised.

Ziva nodded her agreement. “In all likelihood, yes.”

“Over 15 thousand vehicles go over that every day,” Tony whistled. “If I were a betting man, I’d say he’s gone.”

Gibbs’ eyeroll was a non-verbal ‘Ya think?’ 

“Right. So what now, Boss?”

He surveyed their surroundings and knew they had done all they could. “Wrap it up. Take it to Abby. See what shakes out.”

Flipping her notebook closed, Ziva asked, “You don’t wish us to speak to the woman?”

“Took care of it,” he said, almost laughing at the idea of so much complexity being summarized in 4 short words. In reality, there was so much more to take care of that he wasn’t sure where to start, but for now, it was enough.

Ziva, as always, took his word for it. “Very well. I would like to visit your father before we go, if that’s okay?”

Gibbs remembered how much Jackson had been charmed by Ziva- and vice versa- the last time she had been in Stillwater. He nodded his thanks and said, “He’d like that.”

Grinning, she turned to Tony. “Shotgun!”

“You don’t have to-” She was gone before he could finish his words. “Call shotgun when there’s only 2 people.” He caught Gibbs’ disinterested expression. “Not you, Boss. I meant-” He pointed at Ziva who was clear across the street. “Nevermind. Meet you back in DC.”

….

They had bickered from the moment Tony got into the car, arguing between the benefits of getting back to ‘a modern world where I can get a real latte’ and ‘visiting a dear old man in the hospital’. The later won out by way of deep brown eyes and fingertips tapping on the butt of a gun. Grumbling but acquiescing, the government car pulled up outside a short detour on the way.

“I will just bring him some clothes. Gibbs will forget.”

Tony looked around before agreeing. His boss had a way of materializing out of nowhere, and his head was still ringing from the last slap. “I’ll stay out here. Would rather not have the neighbourhood watch think we're breaking into the place.”

“Is it breaking in if the door's open?” Ziva knew of Gibbs’ propensity to leave his door unlocked and had no doubt he got it from his father. She didn’t wait for the answer. “Be right back.”

As she had suspected, the door was unlocked. Stepping in and closing it behind her, she announced herself. The last thing she wanted to do was frighten anyone who might be in the house for the same reason she was. 

“Anyone here? I’m just picking up some things for Mr. Gibbs.”

A woman came around the corner, dish rag in her hand and a smile on her face. Ziva willed her own to remain, even as she whispered a Hebrew prayer under her breath.

“Pardon?”

The word shook Ziva out of her daze. “Sorry. I was just going to visit Mr. Gibbs in the hospital and thought he might need some things.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s a-”

“-sign of weakness.”

The women held their breaths, both for different reasons. Wiping her hands dry, Kate held one out.

“Sam Winslow,” she introduced.

Ziva gave her credit for being able to say the lie with conviction. She may have never met Special Agent Caitlin Todd, but she had seen enough and learned enough to know her when she saw her. A memory of her brother on Gibbs’ basement floor flashed across her mind, but she was surprised to find she felt no animosity towards the woman standing before her. Their profession demanded they played all kinds of games and often, they were merely pawns. Returning the handshake with more warmth than a stranger would normally offer, Ziva smiled.

“Special Agent Ziva David.”

Kate nodded even as she swallowed her nerves. “You’re with NCIS. I spoke with Special Agent Gibbs.”

If she gave Kate credit for maintaining the lie, she would give Gibbs everything he deserved for not giving a single hint at what must have transpired before he showed up to meet them. Not for the first time did she admire the man’s ability to shield his emotions. She concentrated on keeping her professional mask in place, despite wanting to know everything. 

“You protected his father.”

“I tried.”

“I know Gibbs is very thankful, but I am, too.”

Kate nodded at the reveal. “You came to Stillwater a couple of years ago. Jackson spoke very highly of you.”

Blushing a little at the compliment, she asked. “Did he? He’s too kind.”

“He’s a big flirt is what he is.”

Ziva flashed a broad grin. She had read the file on Caitlin Todd, knew all the professional details, but it was nice to have a small moment with the woman behind it. In another life, they might have been friends. Thinking of blue eyes that must have shared more than a small moment today, she considered they might still have that chance. Rumours had mixed with facts in the wake of Kate’s supposed death, but if even half of them were true, Ziva didn’t believe for a minute that Gibbs would let her go a second time.

Two women on opposite sides of a tragedy, looked at each other with curiosity and mutual respect, knowing they shared the same man in the middle. Kate looked almost relieved.

“I was heading up to the hospital later, but you can bring those if you like.” She gestured to the small clothes stack on the couch. “They’re his favourite.” 

“Thank you.”

“Ziva, the locals have started circling. What’s the hold up?” Tony’s voice started at the sidewalk and got louder as he got closer. 

The look on Kate’s face might have been funny had the situation not been so fraught with risk and emotions. She froze in place, her eyes searching Ziva’s.

She held up a finger to her lips. Scooping up the clothes, she made it to the door before Tony did. “Hold your ponies,” she berated him. “Do you know how many clothes a man in his 80s has kept over his life? I have never seen such a collection!” Before turning the handle, she looked back at Kate. She nodded at her relief.

“Thank you,” Kate mouthed.

“You’re welcome,” she said in return. “Kate.”

The door closed behind her and Kate sagged against the wall. Though her heart hammered out a frantic beat in her brain, she could still hear Tony as they walked away.

“It’s ‘Hold your horses’. And if I’m wearing that at 80, shoot me.”

“Disrespect Gibbs’ father like that again and you won’t make it to 80.”

The car doors slammed, cutting off his retort.

…..


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter to close things out. :) There was so much more I could have done with this- could've written another 10k words just on the Stillwater citizens alone! This was a lot of fun to write, and for my first real dip into a longer NCIS fic, I'm pretty happy with it. Thanks to those still reading Kibbs! And thanks again to jenni3penny for letting me run with her idea.

…..

“I told you he’d forget,” she whispered under her breath.

They walked into the hospital room to see Gibbs lounging in a nearby chair, if trying to squeeze a 6 foot frame into generic hospital furniture constituted as ‘lounging’. 

“I can hear you,” he said, though his eyes were still closed. 

“Hey, Boss. We stopped by the house and picked up some clothes for your dad.”

Gibbs’ eyes snapped open at Tony’s words, though the younger man didn’t notice the alarm behind the blue.

“Actually, I stayed inside while Ziva went in. Didn’t want the local graffiti artists tagging the car.”

The thought of anyone in Stillwater, let alone his dad’s neighbours, tagging anything almost made him laugh, but he stifled it with a glare. “DiNozzo, the average age of that neighbourhood is about 75. Ya probably didn’t have to worry about it.”

Tony shrugged. “Just the same.”

Feigning disinterest, Gibbs lifted his eyes to Ziva. “You find everythin’ okay?”

Her lips twitched at the many answers she had to the question, knowing he was surreptitiously probing for something deeper than the clothes that were in her hands.

“Yes,” she replied. “I found many interesting things.”

She and Gibbs shared a knowing look while the true meaning went well over Tony’s head.

“He’s almost 100, Ziva,” Tony said. “I can only imagine the things that man has.”

“I’m 81, you trouble-making upstart!”

Three heads turned to the bed to find Jackson peering at them all. 

“Hey, Dad.”

“Mr. Gibbs.” Tony raised an eyebrow. “Sounds weird saying that, when you’re Mr. Gibbs.” He looked at his boss. “Can’t imagine calling you ‘Mr. Gibbs’, though.”

“Does he have an ‘off’ button?” Jackson asked.

“None that we have found so far,” Ziva replied, stepping closer to the bed. “Hello, Mr. Gibbs.”

“Well, if I’da known getting shot would bring such beauty to my side, I might’ve done something about it myself.”

She touched his uninjured shoulder. “It’s good to see you, too, sir. We brought you some clothes.”

“What did I say about calling me ‘sir’?” He patted her hand. “It’s good to see you again.” Looking over at Gibbs, he asked, “Clothes- does that mean I’ll be out of here any time soon?”

He knew his dad’s aversion to hospitals was the same as his own. “At least 2 days.” Seeing a grumble start to form, he said, “Ya got shot, Dad.”

“Hmph. Sam’ll take care of me.”

Ziva tilted her chin up to Gibbs, her expression one of mild curiosity to anyone who might not be trained to see more. Gibbs saw it all and narrowed his eyes. Her face remained impassive.

“When ya get out and not a minute sooner,” he said, turning his attention back to Jackson. “She’s got her own things to deal with.”

The idea that Sam might be struggling made the old man frown. “She okay?”

“Pretty sure bein’ in the middle of a drive-by isn’t anyone’s idea of ‘okay’.” He tried to sound gruff. They were talking too much about Kate and it was playing with his emotions. “Two days. At the earliest. And if ya keep on me, I’ll tell Nurse Hastings you wanna stay. You know she’s sweet on you.”

The threat of an extended hospital stay was enough to make Jackson relent. “Fine.”

“Such is the curse of the charmer,” Tony piped up. “I know it all too well. Speaking of, I don’t suppose you’ve got another sweater you’d be willing to part with. It’s crazy, but the ladies really dig the cardigan.”

“DiNozzo!” Both Gibbs and Ziva said at once.

“We should go,” she suggested, thumbing in Tony’s direction. “He hasn’t had his nap yet and this will continue until he does.” Rubbing Jackson’s arm with affection, she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. “It was so nice to see you.”

“How about next time, you come visit when you don’t have a case?” he said. “Love for you to spend some time; could tell you a heck of a lot of stories about this one.” Gibbs glowered at the implication.

“I would love to,” she replied in earnest. “You could tell me all about Sam, too.”

His eyes lit up. “You’ve met her?” When she nodded, he said, “Tryin’ to get this one as interested about her as you are. Not having much luck.”

“Oh,” she whispered slyly, “I suspect you’re having more luck than you think.”

“Ziva.” Gibbs’ warning shot was low but deadly. 

Raising her head as if she hadn’t heard the growl, she looked at Tony and said, “We should go before traffic gets bad. I don’t want to spend more time in the car with you than necessary.”

“I’d be offended if I didn’t know how much you secretly love me,” he said, brushing off her insult with a grin.

“Must be a deep, deep secret,” she deadpanned.

“Get goin’ you kids,” Jackson ordered, shooing them out with his good hand. 

“We’ll see you in DC, Boss,” Tony said. “Take care, Dad Gibbs.”

“Yes,” Ziva said, looking right at Gibbs. “We’ll see you.”

He glowered in her direction, but wondered why he felt like the one who should squirm. Minutely relenting to her knowing grin, he said, “You heard the man. Get goin’.”

The duo were barely out of sight when Jackson asked, “So what did she mean, I’m having more luck than I think?”

“Dad…”

…..

She poked her head in just past 7, having given plenty of time to account for Tony and Ziva leaving. Of course, Jackson was exactly where she thought he’d be, but she still wasn’t entirely expecting Gibbs to be in the chair in the corner. Despite everything that had happened, there was still a part of her that didn’t believe it. But sure enough, there he was, unbeknownst to her, in the same position he had been when Ziva and Tony showed up; his long, lean frame creating triangles with the rigid chair angles. His arms were crossed and his chin rested on his chest. She tiptoed to his side and sneakily reached out to touch his hair when his hand darted out to circle her wrist. She had to tamp down the startled squeal.

“Why does everyone think I can’t hear ‘em just because my eyes are closed?”

“Because most people are asleep when their eyes are closed,” she quietly hissed. “Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?”

He sat up but didn’t let go of her wrist. “I just got you back so-” His thumb stroked over the pulse point. “No.” He held the moment a little longer before turning sly. “Speakin’ of heart attacks, I heard you got a visitor.”

“Special Agent David. She seems nice.”

His brow rose. “She knows who you are.”

Her hand turned in his to touch the soft skin under his thick bracelet. “Kinda figured that when she called me ‘Kate’.” Though her shrug pretended to be unconcerned, her voice betrayed her. “I guess I'm going to have to get used to people finding out.”

“She won't say a word,” he assured her. “I trust her.”

She knew his trust was an unbreakable bond, but she also recognized the bigger picture. “This is going to get out, with or without her silence.”

His concern showed itself through a furrowed brow and clenched jaw. “You afraid?”

She knew what he meant and shook her head. “Not for the same reasons I was when I came here. But that doesn't mean I'm not scared.”

His inclination was always towards action rather than words, to do rather than say. So instead of giving her platitudes about how she’d get through, banal promises of how things would get better, he tugged her to stand between his knees and pulled her mouth down to his. Her hands landed on his shoulders as she allowed herself to bend into the request, drawing courage from the contact. He brushed the hair away from her face and deepened the kiss, as if trying to transfer his own strength to her.

“Thought you didn’t date men from Stillwater?”

“Jesus!” Kate exclaimed, pulling back sharply at the question from the bed. “Doesn’t anyone sleep when their eyes are closed?”

“Must be a family thing.” Gibbs pretended to wince at Kate’s playful slap.

“How much of that did you hear?” Kate asked with narrowed eyes.

Jackson shuffled under the blanket. “You should be asking yourself how much I saw.”

“Oh my God,” she groaned. “I’m going to talk to Sylvia Hastings.”

The nurse’s name made Kate’s intent clear.

“Now, now,” Jackson said. “No need to get hasty. Hastings. Ha!”

“Dad…”

“Don’t ‘Dad’ me, son. I’m not the one playing Grabby Hands with the pretty girl I just met.”

Gibbs was about to object to the former when he realized his hands had somehow found their way down Kate’s waist to curl around her thighs. He wasn’t about to correct the latter.

Giving up the pretense, Kate traced his collar until her fingers met in the middle. “This is what we’re going to have to deal with.”

The idea that it was even an option made his hands grip tighter and his smile grow wider. “Dealt with it my whole life, Kate. He doesn’t have much longer to go.”

“Hey!”

Her eyes followed playful blue ones to the man in the bed. Her hands clenched at Gibbs’ shoulders, both in happiness and in a fear she couldn’t quite dispel. For now, seeing the joy on both men made her smile. 

“You two should take your act on the road,” she suggested, feigning exasperation. “Speaking of going, I should get to the diner; Charlotte's left it open later for people who want to get together. After what happened, I know they'll want some news.”

“They just want to know who gets my woodworking tools.”

Normally, his self-deprecating humor would make her roll her eyes and laugh, but her frayed emotions couldn't deal with it. 

“Yes, it has nothing to do with the fact that people love you, you stubborn old man!” She felt Gibbs squeeze her calf, silently encouraging her to take in a calming breath, and when she closed her eyes, she felt a soothing hand brush across her furrowed brow. “I need to go.” 

Gibbs gently released her, but she went to the bed before she went to the door. With an apology on her lips, she bent forward and kissed a stunned Jackson on his forehead. 

“Behave,” she whispered. 

The father and son watched her leave, both wistful captives. 

“What did you say to her?” Jackson demanded once she was well out of earshot.

“Me??”

“She's never been angry with me. Frustrated? Annoyed? Sure. Angry? I didn't think she had that bone in her body.”

“It's the adrenaline finally wearin’ off, Dad. She’s gone through a lot over the past 24 hours. Watched you get shot. Got shot. Shot some people.”

He snorted at the bullet points. “Yeah, I guess that would get to anyone, wouldn’t it?” 

“How are you doin’?”

Closing his eyes to take a mental inventory, he shrugged with his good arm. Rather than answer directly, he asked, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“I got one little bullet in me and the idea of bed rest doesn’t sound like such a bad one. Don’t tell me you haven’t been shot.”

Gibbs scraped the chair closer to the bed. Chuckling, he admitted, “Yeah, I’ve been shot. More ‘n once. Stabbed. Cut. Thrown down a flight of stairs at least twice. Hit over the head.” He pointed to a spot behind his ear, hidden by his crew cut.

“Jesus, son.” 

“It’s just the job, Dad. Still, nothin’ ever hurt as much as gettin’ my finger caught in the screen door.”

A smile took over Jackson’s face. “You were five. Your mother told you to stop playing with the door.”

“I was fixing it,” Gibbs protested. “Tryin’ to figure out where the squeak was comin’ from.”

“Well, you found out.”

“Yeah, when I put my finger in the spring hinge.”

They didn’t often share good memories together. Time had covered most of them in sand and had built the bad ones into castles. Gibbs recognized the moment for what it was and briefly clasped his father’s hand.

“You knew her.”

The change in topic and directness of the statement didn’t surprise Gibbs. It just surprised him that it took so long to say it.

“Yeah. I knew her.” He rubbed his forehead. “I mean, I didn’t know it was her until I saw her.”

“So all this time, my Sam was your Kate.”

“Just how much _did_ you hear?” He didn’t correct the possessive. While he knew she would object, he quietly liked the idea that she might be his.

“Not nearly enough.”

He knew what was implied, but he shook his head. “I don’t… I don’t know if that’s my story to tell, Dad.”

Jackson considered the reply, then nodded. “You may be right, Leroy. Just tell me, is she military?”

“No.”

“Law enforcement? Like you?”

“Yeah.”

He practically cackled. “I knew it! The way she leapt in front of me when the bullets started flying.” He didn’t see Gibbs’ wince. “She took charge like _that_.” He tried to snap his fingers. “Pulled me out of the way, grabbed the Winchester and out the door she went.”

Despite the image of what might have gone wrong, Gibbs couldn’t help but grin. “Sounds like Kate.”

Jackson made a face. “That might take some getting used to. ‘Kate’.”

Reminded of the shifting sand under his feet and the uncertainty of what would happen next, he suggested, “Why don’t we wait and see what she decides?”

The question was meant to be about her name, but they both knew it also had a broader meaning. 

Blue eyes blinked back tears. “I’m not sure I’m ready for her to leave.”

Gibbs understood the feeling, perhaps even more than his dad knew. Dispelling the ache, he archly reminded him, “You were all but throwin’ her in my arms 2 days ago. An’ for the last 5 years.”

“Never really thought you’d catch her,” Jackson admitted. He reached out for Gibbs’ hand and clasped it tightly. “Just promise me you won’t let her go this time.”

There wasn’t a man whose word was stronger than Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Squeezing his father’s hand, he vowed, “I promise.”

…..

He briefly contemplated going to the diner, but he still fought against stepping back into the fold of the small town, as warm as the embrace might be. There were other, warmer embraces he sought out. Which is how he found himself outside his dad’s house. They were more alike than they’d admit, he and Kate, and he knew she would seek out something familiar, because it’s what he would have done. Throwing the car into ‘park’ and killing the engine, he stepped out of the vehicle and into the summer night. The air never seemed to change in all the years he was away; it still smelled like leaves and rain and small town. Closing his eyes, he let the feeling and the memories wash over him.

“You can never really go home again.”

He smiled at the voice and opened his eyes. “No,” he admitted. “But you always carry it with you.” 

He stepped up the porch and took Kate’s outstretched hand. An aroma unlike the summer air wafted over her shoulder. 

“Somethin’ smells amazin’.”

“Well, I _do_ bake for a living.” Tugging him into the home, she asked, “Did you apologize to your dad for me?”

“Apologize? I told him to smarten up and quit bein’ such a bastard.”

She pulled him into the kitchen. “I’ve been told that’s what the second ‘b’ is for. Maybe he can’t help it.”

“Oh, he can help it. Just doesn’t want to. Stubborn.”

She arched an eyebrow. “That explains so much.”

He deflected her dart with a shrug. “Don’t all kids blame their parents?”

“Mmmm. Sit.” It only took her a second to place a glass of milk and a plate of cookies in front of him. 

Now it was his turn for an eyebrow to go up. “Milk?”

A warm laugh tumbled from her lips. “I guess your dad’s spent all these years talking about young Leroy that I wanted to see it for myself.”

He could only imagine the stories his father shared with her. Shaking his head, he glanced down at the plate. His examination made him ask, “Are those peanut butter cookies?”

“Yeah, I…” He looked up at her hesitation, which brought the blush to her cheeks. She was suddenly, inexplicably, embarrassed “I found your mother’s recipe in a box in the cupboard. I was looking for some flour and it was there in the back and-”

He reached across to cover her hand with his. “It’s okay, Kate. He wouldn’t mind.” His attention went back to the cookies. “You know, no one could make ‘em the way she did. Dad said it was some kind of witchcraft.” 

Kate contemplated the thought. “That, or the fact she used shortening. Most people use butter.”

To her amusement, he popped an entire one into his mouth and closed his eyes to savour it. A grin spread with each chew. “Amazin’.” 

She laughed when he shoved another one into his mouth. Pushing the glass closer, she said, “Drink your milk.” 

He downed it with more eagerness than she would have thought, and when he was invariably left with a milk mustache, she leaned across the table and kissed him.

“Might hafta start drinking more milk,” he said under her lips.

Grinning at the thought, she said, “In the meantime, let me get the coffee.” 

She poured the mugs like she had done it a hundred times before, and it still caught him off-guard. There must have been something in his eyes because when she brought the cups to the table, she asked, “What?”

Putting emotions into words was never his strong suit at the best of times, let alone when it came to telling her what it meant to see her standing at his dad’s kitchen table, as if the last 5 years hadn’t happened.

“It’s time for the serious talk, isn’t it?” she asked, trying to inject some humour into a moment that had gotten quiet.

While she tapped against the mug to spread the too-hot heat over her fingertips, he revelled in the sting it burned into his. It kept his attention focused on the matter at hand and not on the distracting possibility that sat across the table.

“I want you to come back to DC.”

She wondered why she was surprised he would get right to the point. If she hadn’t been exposed to his special brand of directness in the years that had passed, she got a similar version from Jackson. And yet, her first reaction was to bristle.

“You have got to be kidding me.” She sat back and crossed her arms.

He looked into his coffee, finding the dark beverage less intimidating than the brown eyes that bored into him. Still, he replied with his own edge.

“Ignoring for the moment that I’m not letting you go again, I need to protect Jackson. An’ I can’t do that if I’m in DC and he’s here.”

“Ignoring for the moment that there’s a hell of a lot more involved than you just riding into Stillwater and throwing me over your shoulder, I can protect him here.”

He clenched his jaw at her stubbornness. “Like you did today?” He immediately saw his mistake. Her line of defense was always a verbal retaliation. It was when she didn’t speak that she was her most dangerous, and she currently wasn’t saying a word. “I didn’t mean that,” he whispered. His frustration was getting the better of him. In the same way he told his dad how things were suddenly hitting her full force, he was beginning to feel it, too. “I didn’t mean that, Kate,” he repeated. He laid his hand on the table, palm up, and was taken aback at how relieved he was when she put her hand in his.

“I know,” she said at last. 

“You make it sound like it’s the worst thing in the world.” His gut was tight and churning. It never occurred to him that she not only wouldn’t come back, but that she wouldn’t want to. The thought of going back to DC, knowing she was alive yet still out of reach forced him to swallow the bile that had inched up his throat.

“It wouldn’t be,” she replied. “Not for us. But it’s not just us. It’s not just you. It’s Tony and Tim and Abby. And if I think it’s going to be hell for me to go through it over and over, I can’t imagine what it will be like for them. My God, Gibbs, my sister. How do I tell her? Think of how you felt when you saw me- how many people am I going to put through that?”

“You wanna know how I felt?” A short laugh of disbelief escaped her lips and he couldn’t blame her. The idea of him articulating his feelings was just as laughable to him as it was to her. “Give me a chance, will ya?” She gave his hand an apologetic squeeze. Looking down into the coffee, he said, “When you… died, I can tell ya I’d only ever felt that kind of pain once in my life.” He knew he didn’t have to elaborate. The pictures in the hall told their own stories. “Seein’ you alive? Hurt. Hurt like hell.” His free hand subconsciously covered his heart. “Couldn’t breathe.” He looked up to her with clear blue eyes. “But it didn’t hurt as much as... that. I’m not gonna tell you it’ll be easy. It won’t. Some might not even take it well. But I’ll tell ya somethin’- they’d rather hate you, knowin’ you were alive than miss you thinkin’ you’re dead.” 

She was sure she’d never heard him say so many words, especially when it came to his heart. Closed. Stoic. Aloof. That was the Gibbs she knew. But maybe her life wasn’t the only one that had changed with her death.

Their clasped hands suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world to her.

“You said you were close to catching her. How close, really?”

“If we do things above board? Could be next week.”

“Or could be next year.” She was well aware that the laws they protected were often the ones that handcuffed them. “How short’s your leash?”

“Director’ll give me some leeway, but there’s a political angle he’s gotta consider.”

If her mirthless laugh didn’t tell him everything he needed to know about what she thought about the roadblock, her tired retort did.

“As long as we look good in the press, we’ll just hide the bodies of the victims and offer thoughts and prayers.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do, Kate.”

She pulled her hand away to steeple her fingers and rest her forehead. After a deep sigh, she asked, “So what’s your plan?”

Loathe to lose the contact, his fingers reached out to brush against her elbow. “First thing I gotta do is get Dad outta here. I told him 2 days, but the doc said he can leave tomorrow, as long as someone’s there to look after him.”

“Your ability to throw me over your shoulder aside, I can’t just leave, Gibbs. Who’s going to take care of the store?”

“We’ll board it up. Put a notice on it. Word’ll get out by the end of the day.” The last part tried but failed to put a smile on her face. “Kate, short of tying him up, he’s not gonna want to come. If he knows you’re goin’-”

She held up a hand. “Don’t do that. Please.”

He knew it had been a lure she wouldn’t like, and he regretted saying it. “Sorry.”

Her mouth dropped at the word. “Wow.” 

Still caressing her arm, he said, “You don’t hafta come with us tomorrow. But I’m not leavin’ without you.” 

It seemed like a contradictory statement, but she knew what he meant; he wanted an assurance that she wasn’t staying longer than needed. Suddenly, this all felt like another night, 5 years ago. The fact she wasn’t leaving in the dead of the night, under the umbrella of the biggest lie she’d ever told didn’t make it any easier. She was still being asked to say goodbye to friends and people she considered family, still being asked to box up the life she created and move on. The thought made her cover her face with her hands. He reached for them but she pulled away.

“I- I’ve got to talk to Carol. We’ll have to do something with the bakery. Maybe convince Lily to take over; she’s a good kid. Head over to Bronson’s Lumber and get some plywood for the windows.”

“Kate-”

“Figure out what your dad needs to take with him,” she went on, as if she were the only one in the room. “Get a moving company for my things.”

“Kate!”

Pushing away from the table, she said, “It’s been a long day, Gibbs.” She glanced at the clock over the sink. “A long 12 hours.” The sudden tiredness weighed down her voice. 

At a loss for words, he could only say, “I’ll take the couch.”

She stood and nodded, expecting nothing less. “Goodnight, Gibbs.” 

…..

He had watched her go up the stairs until she was completely out of sight before forcing himself to get ready for what he was certain would be a fitful night. Kicking off his shoes and removing his jacket and polo, he plopped down on the sofa and leaned his head back against the well worn cushion. His ears strained for her movements and he imagined her routine even if he couldn’t see it. The tap ran for several minutes and he didn’t have to wonder if his dad still kept extra toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet. The floor creaked above his head as sock feet padded across the old wood until he heard the mattress springs relent under her slight frame and all was silent.

He replayed the day in his head, as he always did, though he admitted this day was like no other. She was right to be blindsided by how much happened in such a short time. He had been sitting on a very different couch this time yesterday, never once dreaming of how the next day would turn out. Yet here he was. And here she was. A heavy hand rubbed his face and he sat up to rest his elbows on his knees, contemplating what tomorrow would bring.

…..

Her ears stopped straining to hear sounds at least an hour ago, but she found she still couldn’t sleep. It had been like this when she was an agent; the adrenaline pendulum had swung from hyper-aware to exhaustion back to hyper-aware again, and her brain was ignoring all orders to ‘Just go to sleep, for God’s sake’. Too many things had her synapses firing, too many scenarios to play out, too many bridges needing mending. The Old Spice buried in the blankets brought tears to her eyes and she threw the covers back in frustration. The wood floor felt warm under her bare feet as she walked to the door, down the stairs and straight into the living room. The street light filtered in through the picture window, leaving odd shadows that made her stop in her tracks. Out of the darkness, she heard a voice.

“Kate.”

Holding back the tears that had threatened to fall in the bedroom, she wordlessly went to him and fell into the invitation his open arms and lifted blanket gave her. Spooning into him and all his warmth and strength, she let the tears win at last. He didn’t tell her it would be okay. He only held her in his arms; as always, his actions saying more than his words ever could.

…..

“Remind me to buy him a new couch.”

Though it wasn’t the couch from his childhood, Gibbs had no doubt it was long past its due date. His hips and back agreed. He offset the discomfort by pulling the softness in front of him closer. She turned to face him, the couch size making them all arms and legs. They twisted into something they both silently agreed on, something that kept them tightly together.

“I used to have dreams like this,” she confessed into his t-shirt. “In the early days.”

He held her closer. “This is better.”

His matter-of-factness made her chuckle. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it is. Despite everything.” She pulled back and peered into his sharp blue eyes. “Just checking,” she said when his eyebrow rose at her examination. “I usually woke up at this part.” She allowed herself another minute to settle in his arms before sighing. “What time are you heading out?”

His hands tried to soothe her tension. “Gotta take care of the store first. Figured the rest of the morning will be me tryin’ to talk Dad into leavin’.”

Reluctantly sitting up, she looked over her shoulder. “I'll come sort him out; I just have to take care of a few things.”

A caress travelled up her back to her neck. “Call me when you're ready.”

“Same number?” She knew the answer but asked anyway. 

“Yep.” As if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

This got a small laugh. “Of course it is.” A shift allowed her to see more of him. “I had it saved in my phone. Didn't tell WitPro, but…” Her voice trailed off.

“Just in case,” he finished. Her head shook at the absurdity, but he brushed her hair behind her ear and said again, “Just in case. Always good to have a backup plan.”

His pragmatism brought her a comfort she had missed.

“I never took yours out of my phone,” he said.

The comment was spoken softly and said things beyond keeping her phone number in his life. She ran her fingers up his arm to his hand that was cupping her face, and placing a small kiss in his palm, she savoured the quiet moment.

With a wry smile that countered the mood, she said, “You still haven’t figured out how to remove contacts, have you?”

He saw the comment for what it was and played along. “Can barely _add_ the contacts.”

Her smile grew. “I’ll put the coffee on.”

…..

The route to Bronson’s Lumber took him down Main Street and past the store. He was surprised to see it already boarded up.

“Of course we took care of that,” Ned Bronson said when Gibbs arrived. “Least we could do for Jackson.”

“Appreciate it,” Gibbs said. 

The older brother clapped his hand on Gibbs’ shoulder. “One less thing to worry about,” Dave consoled. “Sam said he could be out tomorrow, that right? Because we’d like to surprise ‘im. Bunch a guys want to start fixin’ up the store.”

Gibbs nodded his thanks. “What d’you think of Cal Fraser?”

Ned blinked in surprise at the name. “The coloured kid your pop’s got workin’ at the store?”

Flinching at the label, Gibbs simply nodded.

“Great point guard,” Dave praised. “Averagin’ a triple-double in the summer league. Might even take us to state for the first time in forever.”

“Was thinkin’ more of his character and less of his basketball skills, Dave.”

Ned slapped his brother’s chest. “Doofus.” To Gibbs, he said, “The kid’s good, Leroy. Always quick to help, a whiz with numbers. Might end up with the business one day if you don’t come back.”

“Jackson trusts him,” Dave said. “Tells you everythin’ you need to know.”

Gibbs nodded. If there was one thing he could credit to his father, it was his judge of character. It had served him well over the years and he had Jackson to thank for that trait.

The interest in the young man made Ned tilt his head. “Why you askin’ about Cal?”

“Takin’ Jackson down to DC for a while,” he said, offering as little information as needed. 

Dave frowned. “You think the shootin’ was personal?” 

It was clearly on par with a unicorn sighting, and Gibbs couldn’t blame the disbelief. A place like Stillwater still clung to a small town mentality that was slowly being eroded. The idea that strangers would come into the town and shoot up a home, a business or a place of worship, let alone target a specific citizen was unfathomable.

“Just bein’ proactive,” Gibbs replied. “Not takin’ chances.”

Ned grunted his approval. “I hear ya. But good luck gettin’ him outta town!”

The brothers laughed and Gibbs couldn’t help but join them. 

“I’ll deal with that when it comes,” he said. “In the meantime, someone’s gonna hafta look after the store.”

“The kid’s good,” Ned repeated. “And he won’t be short of help if he needs it.”

The close-knit assurance warmed him more than he would admit. He pulled out a card and handed it to Dave.

“Give me a call if you need anything.” His expression stressed his order. “I’ll bring ‘im back as soon as I can.”

“Or until he drives ya crazy, whichever comes first!”

…..

“Sorry I’m late.”

The young girl turned from the industrial oven and smiled. “Hey, no worries. I just put Mrs. Ormiston’s retirement cake in, but the rest of the day’s cleared for the bake sale this weekend. I did the math- it’s a _lot_ of cookies, but we’ll have time to spare, in case something comes up.”

Kate smiled at how much Lily had grown, though her heart was saddened at the thought of what she had to do.

“That’s great, Lily. Mind if we sit down for a minute?”

The smile on Lily’s face faltered. “Is everything okay? Have you been to the hospital?”

Kate came around the counter and touched Lily’s arm. “It’s fine. I mean, Jackson’s fine, but there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Okay.” Lily wiped her hands along her apron.

Pulling out two chairs from a nearby table, Kate sat and waited for Lily to do the same. 

“I’m not in trouble, am I?”

Kate quickly reached across the table. “No, sweetie, you’re not in trouble. You’ve never been trouble.” She thought of those first years. “You’ve always been the smartest, most creative girl I’ve met. And you’ve grown into such a strong woman. Which is why I feel I can talk to you about this.” Lily’s head tilted forward to encourage the discussion. “I was late this morning because I was talking to your grandmother. About the business.” She looked at her hands that had clasped around Lily’s forearm. “I know we’ve talked about you taking on a larger role.”

“It’s always been my dream.”

Nodding, she replied, “I know. And you will be so great at it.”

“Sam? You’re kinda scaring me here.”

With a shaky laugh, Kate said, “Kinda scaring myself.” Imagining strong blue eyes, she gathered up her courage. “I need to go away for awhile and I want you to take over while I’m gone.”

Lily’s eyes grew wide. “The bakery?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Jackson’s son wants to take him out of town, for his protection. And he’s asked me to go with him.”

“You _are_ probably the only person who could convince the crazy old coot to leave.” Lily tempered her comment with a wink. “Don’t worry, Sam, I can totally take care of things while you’re gone.” A flicker in Kate’s eye must have given her away. “You’re… you’re not coming back, are you?”

Seeing Lily’s eyes well up brought tears to hers. “Oh, sweetie,” she said again. “There’s so much I want to tell you, but I don’t want to do it here, in the bakery, when Steve Brighton could walk in at any minute.”

Despite the moment, Lily laughed. “Could and will.” Sobriety returning, she asked, “ _You’re_ not in trouble, are you?”

“No,” Kate answered, shaking her head. “It’s just a very long story, and one I think you deserve to know. And you will, I promise.”

“When are you leaving?”

Faced with the multitude of tasks still at hand, Kate sat back and ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “Probably in the morning. There’s so much here still to do.”

Now it was Lily’s turn to clasp Kate’s arm. “I’m not going to lie and say I don’t have 100 questions, but you know you can count on me, Sam. Whatever you need, I’ll help you.”

Emotions stretched as thin as gauze, she had to reach up to wipe away a tear. “I know you will.”

The bell chimed over the door, and a booming voice broke the mood.

“My favourite ladies!”

Lily grinned and winked at Kate. “Mr. Brighton, what a surprise!”

…..

Based on a tip from Steve Brighton, Kate didn’t call Gibbs but instead walked the block down to the diner. All eyes turned to her when she entered, but she only had eyes for the man at the counter. The coffee must have met his rigid demands because he gave a small nod when Charlotte topped up his cup. It was such a calming moment in an otherwise chaotic world she now found herself in that she walked directly to him, turned him slightly on his stool and resoundly kissed him. A cup being dropped in the kitchen was the only sound in the otherwise suddenly silent diner. 

“Holy shi-”

“Matthew Andrew!” Charlotte said, stopping her son’s expletive in its tracks.

Ignoring the admonishment and the curious diners, Gibbs rested his hands on Kate’s waist and said, “I’ll never ask you why you kiss me, but if you ever wanna tell me-” His voice trailed off.

She kissed him again, though with less intensity. “Just happy to see you.”

“Then I’ll make damn sure I’m always around.”

It was another comment among the many they had made to each other that spoke not only of the moment, but the future. Knowing there was something waiting for her when it was all over- knowing _he_ was waiting for her- helped smooth the rough road ahead. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she made to pull back, but he held her firm. His palm cooled her heated cheek though his smirk only inflamed it more. 

“Morning, Sam,” Charlotte said, her blank face barely betrayed by a twinkle in her eye. 

“Morning, Charlotte.” 

“Should I get you breakfast, or…?” her voice light and teasing.

“Charlotte,” Gibbs warned.

Kate shook her head at both of them. “No, I think we’re going to see Jackson?”

He nodded. “Bronsons already took care of the store.”

“I’ll be back for lunch, though,” Kate said. 

Charlotte caught the wistfulness in her voice. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Kate half-lied. “Just been a crazy couple of days. I’ll be fine.”

All teasing forgotten, Charlotte gently squeezed Kate’s arm. “You’re darn right you will,” she assured her. “And I’ve got a feeling you’re going to get a lot of help.” Jerking her chin at Gibbs, her voice full of sincerity, she said, “If half of what I’ve heard about this one is true, you’ll be more than fine, darlin’.”

Gibbs stood and waved away her protests when he placed some bills on the counter. “Least I can do for the best coffee I’ve had in years.”

“It’s never changed, Leroy,” she told him. “You just need to come home more.”

The suggestion wasn’t as much of an albatross as it had been before he arrived. “You might be right, Charlotte. You might be right.”

…..

“So what are you going to say to him?”

Kate touched his arm, pausing them outside the hospital room.

Gibbs shrugged. “The truth. I’m takin’ him back to D.C. He can’t stay here.”

“That’s what you’re going to say? Just like that?”

“What?”

“Let me do the talking.”

Before he could object, she pulled him into the room.

“Hey, Sam!” Cal Fraser turned to greet her. “Sir.”

Jackson grunted from the bed. “Don’t call him ‘sir’.”

Gibbs tilted his head in agreement. “Just ‘Leroy’. You must be Cal Fraser.”

“Yes, sir. I mean, yes.” He returned the handshake, firm and strong.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Gibbs said. “In fact, wondered if you had a minute.”

As was his way, the question was really a statement, and Cal visibly swallowed. 

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“He won’t bite, Cal.” Kate whispered her promise as he walked by, which brought a relieved smile to his face.

The two men out of the room, Kate looked at Jackson. “Alone at last.”

“Wasn’t sure you’d come back. You were pretty mad at me. I wouldn’ta blamed you.”

“Do you really think I’m that kind of person?”

“Considering what I’ve learned, I’m not sure I know you at all. Kate.”

She sat in the same chair she had found Gibbs in the night before and dropped her head into her hands. Her hair covered her face, but he didn't need to see it to know she was fighting the tears.

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

The name slip clenched her heart, but the apology lifted her spirits. 

“Two apologies from the Gibbs men in two days,” she marvelled with a shaky breath. “That must be some kind of record.”

“Check the planets; must be some kinda weird alignment.”

They shared a laugh like they had done so many times in the past, and a look that said nothing had changed even if seemed like everything did. He grunted towards the door.

“He wants me to go to D.C with him.” It was a statement rather than a question. “That's why he's talking to Cal.”

She nodded, wiping away the tears. “And you're going to say ‘yes’.”

His eyebrows rose at her candour. 

Her voice softened. “Please don't fight him on this. Don't fight _me_.”

Her plea got between the cracks in his armour. Still, it was his nature to rebut. “I can't leave Cal in charge. He's just a kid.”

“You can and you will.” Squeezing his hand, she said, “He's 18. You wouldn’t have hired him if you didn’t think he was capable. And you know he won’t have to do it alone.”

He squinted. “You’re not coming.”

“I am,” she answered, “in a day or two. I’ve got to sort a few things out before I can leave. But you know I’m not the only one who would help him.”

“The only one with a lick of sense,” he snorted.

She rolled her eyes but played along. “Well, I can think of at least 8 people with half a lick of sense, so maybe we can get them to work together.”

Grunting his reply, he said, “Make you a deal.” Her eyebrow rose at the possibilities. “You tell me all about this Kate business and I’ll go.”

“You go, and I’ll tell you all about this Kate business when I get there,” she countered.

He hurrumphed his rally but relented. “Okay. But let me yank Leroy's chain a little first?”

…..

“Didn't mean to scare ya,” Gibbs said when they stepped into the hallway. 

Cal, eased by Kate's assurance, grinned. “We're good. I'm guessing that's just your natural demeanour.”

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at the well-played volley. “You've been around Jackson too much.” His grin overrode his accusation. 

“Your dad's a good man.”

“So are you, if everything I've heard is true.”

His dark skin reddened. “Nah. I'm only 18.”

“Joined the Marines around your age,” Gibbs said. “Age got nothin’ to do with it.”

Cal shrugged but smiled. “I try to do right by my mom and your dad.”

“Which is why I'm askin’ you a favour. I need you to look after the store while he's gone.”

“Gone?”

“Takin’ him up to D.C for awhile.”

“‘Cause of the shooting.”

“Yeah.” He revealed as much as he could. “My line of work makes enemies. Just wanna make sure there isn't a repeat visit. For everyone.”

Cal nodded his understanding. “So what do you want me to do?”

“I've already talked to the Bronson brothers- they're willin' to help rebuild.” He saw Cal's expression. “Yeah, that was my thought, too. But they offered before I had a chance to ask, so I'm hopin’ that's a good sign. I just need you to look after the place until he comes back. Supervise the rebuild; you know the store better than anyone besides Dad. Re-stock the shelves, handle the orders.”

Cal blinked with surprise. “How long is he going to be gone?”

“Could be a week. Could be a month. Criminals generally don't turn themselves in.” 

“I- I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if I can-”

Gibbs didn’t have the same concern and showed as much by handing him a card. “Keep in touch an’ I'll do the same.”

He glanced at the card before putting it in his pocket. Emboldened by the show of confidence, Cal firmly vowed, “I'll do my best, I promise.” 

“I know you will. There's one more thing.” 

When Gibbs pulled out his wallet, Cal made a motion to object that died in his throat when confronted with Gibbs’ stare. 

“Not always just my natural demeanour,” Gibbs warned. Handing the young man a pile of bills, he said, “Don't expect ya to do the job for free. A man's labour has value. Don't ever forget that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gibbs let the formal address pass. “I should probably get back.” His head jerked towards the room. “Can only imagine what those two are gettin’ up to.”

…..

As it turned out, they weren’t up to much, which left Gibbs more off-balance than if they had been plotting.

“Why do I get the feelin’ the other shoe’s gonna drop when I’m not lookin’?”

Kate dismissed his concern with a light kiss. There was still a part of her that didn’t quite believe she could do that now, had to reassure herself that he was really there. It helped when he reached for her fingers, linking them with his. It was tactile evidence when her brain wasn’t entirely convinced, when her heart was too afraid to want. 

“We’ve come to an agreement,” she said rather cryptically. “I’m going to talk to the nurse and start the paperwork.” Glancing back to the bed, she told Jackson, “Behave.”

“Me? Pssht.” He waved her away, though notably avoided her glare. When he was certain she was out of earshot, he looked at Gibbs. “I hope I’m there the day you two get into a stare down.”

“It won’t last long,” Gibbs replied. Waiting just the right amount of time, he smirked, “I’ll fold quicker than a pair of 2s.”

Jackson laughed at the unexpected confession. “I wouldn’t blame you, son. How do you think she’s getting me to go to D.C.?”

Though Kate’s exit implied as much, hearing the decision drew a relieved exhale. “That’s great, Dad. I’ll make sure it won’t be any longer than necessary.”

“For you or me?”

The reminder of their fractured relationship seemed so at odds with his growing relationship with Kate. He scratched his eyebrow. “Probably Kate more than anyone.”

Jackson laughed again. “Ha! Living with 2 Gibbs men, she’d whip us into shape right quick. Or kill one of us.” Seeing a new expression flash across Gibbs’ face, he said, “Haven’t thought about what you’re doing when you two get to D.C, have you?”

His father’s comment about Kate living with them unearthed something that had yet to cross his mind. Getting her back was his first and only thought. “No,” he admitted. “Figured we’d just figure it out.” He hated the way he stumbled over his words, but Jackson came to his aid.

“You will. You both will.” 

Gibbs squeezed his temples between his thumb and middle finger. “Yeah.”

“Listen, son.” He waited for Gibbs to look up. “I don’t know the whole story, but I’m smart enough to have put some of the bigger pieces together, and if half of it is what I think it is, you’ve already got the worst of it behind you. Seems like you’ve got a second chance. Don’t blow it, Leroy.”

It was a refrain he had heard time and time again at various ages and it was, more often than not, a critical dart he had learned to dodge. This time felt different. This was a piece of advice, a comforting encouragement, a quiet plea.

“Don’t plan to.” Like his father’s words, these weren’t spoken in the old familiar way, filled with bitter stubbornness. This was a promise.

“Good. Because if I have to choose between you and her-” He shrugged, the answer obvious.

Gibbs appreciated the levity and grinned. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Dad.”

…..

She had already put a few of Jackson’s things together, so there wasn’t much to do once the paperwork was done but to swing by the house and get them. While Gibbs went into the house to collect the bags, Kate fiddled with Jackson’s position in the passenger seat for the tenth time.

“Stop fussing,” he demanded. “I’m not a child.”

“No,” she agreed, adjusting the passenger seat’s recline, “but you don’t have a problem acting like one.” Catching his perturbed expression, she softened her tone. “Would you please just let me do this? Please?”

He blew out a dismissive puff of air, but touched her arm. “It’s not like you’re never going to see me again. Right?”

“Right.” Though the thought of revisiting her old life again had made her wonder if it wouldn’t simply be easier to start a new one somewhere else, it had been only one of a million thoughts that had crossed her mind, and the one she had never truly considered. “I’ll try to get as much done as I can today and leave tomorrow.”

“Good. Because he’s a prickly bear when he doesn’t get what he wants.”

If she didn’t know who ‘he’ was, the voice behind her did.

“I’m right here, Dad.”

“Fine. Then let’s get this show on the road.”

Opening the car trunk, Gibbs used the lid as a block and invited Kate around the back. He looked at her with a blue that was like the sky, yet she saw just a flicker of something. Doubt. Worry. Concern. Things she didn’t like marring her view of his eyes.

“Will you really come back and throw me over your shoulder if I don’t show up in D.C?” 

It was a question he clearly didn’t expect, because a surprised bark of laughter escaped his lips. Still, he recovered quickly “Damn right.” His gaze narrowed at her beaming expression. “What’s that for?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. Just sometimes a girl likes to know she’s wanted.”

“Wanted? Wanted?” His feigned indignation only made her smile grow wider. “I’ll show you wanted.” 

She squealed when he lifted her into his arms, but relinquished all control to lips that captured hers. The kiss was an apology, a forgiveness, a hope and a promise.

“You’re going to start a scandal!”

Gibbs pulled back just enough to shout towards the passenger window. “It’s Stillwater, Dad! Wearing white after Labour Day is a scandal.”

Kate threw her head back and laughed. Whatever the future held, she had this moment. And the moment when his lips touched her neck. And when his arms pulled her closer. And when his hands held her tighter. And when he whispered into her ear that there would be so many more moments, just like this.

-end.


End file.
